


Spomenka

by prompt_fills



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, M/M, Pining, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Translation Available, Trust, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2019-09-05 02:01:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 39,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16801465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prompt_fills/pseuds/prompt_fills
Summary: Luka had his soulmark removed and now there’s only a fake name tattoo in its place.“Look me in the eye,” Sergio repeats slowly. “And tell me you don’t have my name.”“I don’t have your name, Sergio,” Luka says evenly. It’s true, after all.He doesn’t have Sergio’s name. Not anymore.[Updates every Saturday.]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For Dex, who kept cheering me on despite disliking this fandom, this pairing and this trope. Thanks for bearing with me, hun. Without you, this would only be another two hundred words scene in my forever-WIP folder.
> 
> The amazing [TreashiaM](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TreashiaM/profile) is translating the story into **Chinese** and you can [ read it here!](http://www.lofter.com/collection/goulaxueqiao278/?op=collectionDetail&collectionId=1292236)
> 
> You can read [Blauwe Hommel](https://ficbook.net/authors/210090)'s lovely translation into **Russian** [here](https://ficbook.net/readfic/7855361).

**…**

_In which Real Madrid wins but Luka doesn’t celebrate._

**…**

Luka is slowly heading off the pitch, trying his best to hide the discomfort in his left shin. Sergio falls in step with him.

“That was brutal,” Sergio says, grinning at Luka. He thumps Luka on his back, not hard enough to send him stumbling but it’s a near thing.

Luka swipes his hair off his face. “Thanks.”

It’s not like his goal twelve minutes before the end of the match was all that important, the score went up from 3-1 to 4-1, but it sure felt nice to be the one who put it in the net.

“We’re back in the game, we’re back!”

Luka doesn’t share Sergio’s optimism on that just yet – he’s always cautious of the good things in life because he knows it’s never easy like that. One win that would change everything? Hardly. They’ve fallen behind by way too many points and everyone on the team needs to start pulling their weight or else tonight’s success is going to be forgotten as soon as the weekend is over.

“Hell yeah,” Luka says anyway, trying to feed off Sergio’s enthusiasm. They won tonight, Luka should feel happy. He only feels tired.

Sergio throws his arm around Luka’s shoulder, swaying them from side to side. Luka ducks out from the hold with a chuckle, grabbing Sergio’s hand and pulling it away. His fingers brush a spot close to Sergio’s cover and Luka feels Sergio go still. Luka finishes getting free, glancing up at Sergio. Sergio’s face is open, his eyes are wide, he looks truly happy, high on the victory and with no care for the rest of the world.

Sergio keeps looking at Luka and there’s something odd about it, like Sergio is waiting for Luka to say something or like Sergio is trying to gauge Luka’s reaction. The moment between them stretches but Luka has no idea what he’s supposed to say, what his captain expects of him. “Great match,” Luka tries to enthuse, just to be safe.

Sergio blinks, nods and then he’s turning away, heading to give the post-match interviews.

Luka plops down on the wooden bench in their locker room and leans his head back against the wall, heaving a sigh as he gingerly prods the muscle in his shin. Nothing a long hot shower and a good night’s sleep won’t fix. He’ll have the physio look at it tomorrow.

Luka changes and steps into the shower where he loses track of the time. He massages the twinge out of his leg first, then he shampoos his hair and lets the warm water wash away the biting chill that settled in his bones during the game.

By the time he emerges from the showers it’s more than half an hour later and most of the guys are already gone. Sergio is chattering to Marce, who looks about ready to leave. Sergio is still wearing the sweaty jersey and he doesn’t look like he had a chance to catch his breath yet. He perks up when he spots Luka and soon he waves Marce goodbye and comes over to Luka instead. “Hey, Lukita.”

“Finally done with the interviews?”

Sergio shrugs. “It wasn’t too bad today, Toni came to switch with me, they had more questions for him.”

Because Toni scored the equalizer, Luka muses. “The coach kept you, then?”

“Yeah,” Sergio says.

Luka finishes towelling his hair dry and puts on a shirt, tugs at the sleeves and makes sure his cover isn’t peaking past his cuffs. “How’s Gaz?” He asks Sergio because he would know more than Luka.

“More tests tomorrow,” Sergio reports. “It doesn’t look good.”

With Gareth, it never does. But Luka is not about to point that out as he doesn’t want to put a damper on Sergio’s mood.

There is the odd pause again, like Sergio is giving Luka room to do or say something but Luka has no clue what it is about. He isn’t aware of any huge screw-ups during the game that he caused and Sergio has already commented on Luka’s goal. There’s nothing to discuss right now. There’s nothing to apologise for.

Sergio’s eyes are warm and he doesn’t seem to be angry. He’s obviously tired but that’s about it, as far as Luka can tell. He’s not good at reading people but luckily, if it’s something important, Sergio won’t be able to stay quiet about it, he’s bound to snap and get whatever this is off his chest. Sergio doesn’t do bottling things up inside. If Sergio is angry, he’s angry. None of that ‘it’s fine’ nonsense.

Sergio grabs a towel from his locker and slings it over his shoulder, then dives back into the locker to look for his comb. When he speaks up his head is still in the locker so his voice has a funny metallic echo. “Wanna go grab a bite and celebrate?”

Luka shakes his head even though Sergio can’t see him. “I’ve got a plane to catch early in the morning. I told my mother I’ll visit.” He has passports to find, luggage to pack and phone calls to make. They’re still five points behind where they should be in La Liga standings, there’s nothing to celebrate, not really.

“Oh, okay,” Sergio says and maybe it’s just Luka projecting but it sounds like Sergio is disappointed.

Luka feels a sudden need to defend his decision. “I haven’t seen her in a while and we’ve got a few days off. The last time I was in Croatia was a bit… hectic.”

Sergio lets out a chuckle. “I can imagine.”

Luka makes a vague sound in throat. Sergio knows what it feels like to win a World Cup with his NT and Luka knows what it’s like to almost win. “Next time?”

“Sure. Have a safe flight.”

“Thanks,” Luka says as he finishes getting dressed. He spares a quick glance at his locker to make sure he hasn’t left anything important behind and slings his bag over his shoulder.

Luka makes it several steps to the door before Sergio calls out, “Oh, hey, Luka.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t forget to bring me back that mar… mar–something, okay?”

“Maraskino,” Luka fills in. “You’ve got it.” As if he could forget.

**…**


	2. Chapter 2

**…**

_In which Luka meets up with his mother._

**…**

Being back home is wonderful – for maybe about a day or so and then he feels like a little kid again, with his mother monitoring his every move. Luka has to stay vigilant all the time to keep his secret safe which is exhausting and stretches him thin the longer it goes on. It’s so much easier in Madrid where no one expects him to be open about his soulmark. Soulmarks are a private thing, no one goes around asking people to show them their mark.

He’s glad to have his phone as a distraction from all the _supervising_.

“Who are you talking to on that phone?”

Luka glances up to meet his mother’s curious gaze. He pockets the phone and tries to wipe the fond smile off his face. “Just texting a teammate,” he says. There’s nothing secretive about the texts he exchanges with Sergio but Luka doesn’t want to tell his mother _everything_. There are things she wouldn’t understand anyway.

His mother’s eyes narrow. “That’s suspiciously vague, Luka. Are you sure it’s not a girl? I saw you smiling just now.”

“Mother,” he says briskly, feeling embarrassed. He hopes he’s not blushing. It’s been just one of Sergio’s stupid random texts. Just yesterday Sergio sent him, `_Apparently, some horses are afraid of spiders. I can relate._` Now the text reads, `_Did you know horses can get spooked by their own farts? Painful discovery. Ouch._`

To Luka’s `_I thought you weren’t supposed to ride during the season?_` , Sergio promptly responded with `_If you tell on me then I’ll get you and your chocolate stash busted!_` and how could he not smile at that.

His mother comes to sit at the table next to him. “Luka,” she starts softly and Luka instinctively bristles. That tone of voice means trouble. There aren’t many things that call for that particular tone.

Luka folds his arms and meets his mother’s eyes. “There’s no girl, mother. I haven’t met her yet.”

His words hang in the air between them for a moment. He knows he surprised her by correctly predicting what she was about to ask him.

Luka trails his fingers along the frill of the table cloth, then he wiggles his pinkie finger into one of the picots of the lace. His mother notices and presses her lips thin. Luka quickly snatches his hand away before he gets a scolding. He suddenly doesn’t know where to put his arms. Crossing his arms again would look like he’s trying to distant himself from her, leaning back and placing his hands on the armrest of the chair would look like he’s bored. He briefly clasps his hands together in his lap but it’s awkward and he’s holding himself all stiff.

His mother doesn’t ask any more questions, she just reaches over and catches his restless hands. Luka stills. “You’ll meet her when the time is right,” she says quietly.

Luka has trouble swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat.

She gives his hands a squeeze. “You’ll make your father and I proud one day,” she adds.

Lying to his family is the hardest part of this, Luka thinks. At moments like this one, he’s very aware of the unbridgeable chasm between her world and his. He hopes she never finds out – he hopes he never disappoints her and hurts her so deeply.

“Mother,” he starts but he has nothing to say. He falls silent.

There must be something on his face that he doesn’t manage to school fast enough and she catches a glimpse of the dark, haunted expression.

She brings his hands to her lips and gives him a quick kiss before letting go and raising to her feet. “Maybe you wouldn’t have to keep torturing yourself if you let me–”

“No.”

“Why not? Luka, why are you doing this to yourself? Living without your soulmate is making you all miserable and while it’s fated that you’ll meet her, I don’t see why you would just sit around and wait for it to happen instead of trying to find her.”

“I’m not letting you set me up on any more dates, mother,” he says, trying to sound firm. He can’t cope with another date with a girl named Spomenka that will be hoping she is his soulmate.

His mother holds her chin up, the challenge clearly written in her eyes. “Is that your final word?”

“Yes.”

“Very well, then. I won’t try to arrange any more meetings for you. If you want to keep being miserable then you can do whatever you want. It’s your life, after all. You’re an adult, I can’t tell you what to do.”

“Mother,” he says, sheepish.

“No, it’s fine. You don’t have to listen to me anymore, you’re not eight. I realize that,” she says primly. “Let me just get on the phone. I need to call Mirica and tell her not to send her daughter over for the afternoon visit like she was meant to do.” She crosses the room to get to her phone that she always leaves lying on the shelf in the dining room instead of carrying it everywhere with her in her pocket. “She’s supposed to bring me their homemade lavender oil, you know? I guess now I’ll have to go there and get it from them myself. And of course I’ll have to come up with some believable excuse as to why you don’t want to meet her sweet and charming darling of a daughter.” 

Guilt. The emotion that’s choking him is guilt, deep rooted to his core. “You already asked her to come over?”

“The moment you said you’ll be visiting us here this week, yes,” his mother confirms. She doesn’t sound particularly bothered by doing all that behind Luka’s back. “Luka,” she says as she sits down with him again, placing the phone on the table. “I don’t understand why you don’t want to meet your soulmate. When I was your age, I–”

“I know, mother,” he interrupts quickly to save himself listening to the familiar tale that she always makes sound more like a reprimand.

His mother falls silent but she watches him expectantly.

Luka studies the stitching of the table cloth. “Maybe it isn’t the right time to meet my soulmate, mother. I have my career to consider. I have to focus on that now and maybe if I meet her before we were meant to meet, everything would change.” He thinks it’s an elegant lie, a believable one. There is even a grain of truth in it – he doesn’t want to trade playing football for having a soulmate.

He holds his breath as he waits for his mother’s answer.

“So you want to wait your life away,” his mother summarizes. “Fine. But what do I tell Mirica?”

He doesn’t have the strength to fight her. She wouldn’t understand and he would only and up hurting her. She has none of his grandfather’s kind understanding.

“Tell her I’d be happy to meet her daughter,” Luka hears himself saying.

With a smug expression, his mother cups his cheek and then gets up to place the phone back to its usual place.

**…**


	3. Chapter 3

**…**

_In which Luka doesn’t meet his soulmate._

**…**

Someone raps on the kitchen window and when Luka and his mother look up, they see a young girl standing there, staring at them. She has definitely seen both of them so Luka’s half-hatched plan of sneaking out and claiming not to be home falls flat before he could even work out the execution.

His mother jumps from the table, waving at her. “Hello!” She calls out. “Come on in,” she adds, gesturing. A tad quieter, she tells Luka, “That’s Spomenka, Mirica’s daughter.”

As if he couldn’t tell. He nods anyway and his mother gives him a nudge. “What are you waiting for? Go get the door!”

Luka walks over to the door, trying and failing to erase the frown on his face.

“Hi,” he says, extending his hand to Spomenka.

“Hi,” she returns and stares at his hand as if it was a venomous snake. Then she pushes past him into the room without waiting for his invitation. All right then, it’s going to be one of _those_ dates.

“Spomenka, darling, it’s so great to have you here,” Luka’s mother calls from the doorway to the kitchen. “Oh, here, let me help you with that,” she says and gives Luka a pointed glare.

Spomenka’s arms are full, Luka only notices when his mother takes the baskets and boxes from her. He’d been a bit too busy staring at her pink hair that she’s braided into two long pigtails. 

His mother starts putting the things away; there’s the lavender oil, a bouquet of fresh lavender, some biscuits and god knows what else that Mirica is sending them. Luka leads Spomenka out to the patio, the small oasis of peace.

They sit down, an awkward silence ensuing. They stare at each other and Luka wonders if she’s disappointed not to feel any spark between them. He knew nothing would happen of course – but maybe she had been keeping her hopes up. It’s quite unfair to do this to her, to agree to a meeting he knows won’t bring anything just because he can’t stand his mother’s nagging.

Luka clears his throat. “Um. I have to admit my mother didn’t tell me much about you.” Next to nothing. “So I was wondering, how was your summer?”

“Good,” she says curtly. She seems to be about as thrilled to be here as Luka is.

“Are you from Zagreb or somewhere else?” Luka tries again.

“I’m from here.”

Luka hates talking to people he doesn’t know. Especially if he didn’t even know said people existed an hour ago. He can never tell what they’re thinking but Spomenka doesn’t seem to be bothered by the silence that stretches between them again. She idly plays with one of her pigtails, not caring enough to meet his eye. Maybe she didn’t get any say about whether or not she wanted to meet him. She looks young. God, she looks so young Luka almost feels insulted his mother would think she was the right age to meet him as her soulmate. Maybe in a few years the difference wouldn’t be so gaping but right now he can’t understand why would his mother arrange their meeting. This would be as good argument as any that it’s always best not to try forcing the meeting of two soulmates. All in due time.

“Did your mother quilt-trip you into meeting me?” He asks and finally gets a reaction. She looks up and studies his face for a moment before a tentative smile appears on her face.

“You too, huh?”

“Yeah,” Luka admits. “No sense in rushing the natural course of things, right?”

Spomenka makes a noncommittal noise, crosses her legs and stops playing with her hair.

“Sorry to get your hopes up,” he says.

Spomenka shakes her head, then openly says, “It’s fine, I don’t want you.”

Despite himself, Luka has to chuckle. “Well, that’s a relief.”

As an afterthought, she adds, “No offence.”

“None taken.”

“I hope you meet your Spomenka, soon,” she tells him and the name rolls out all wrong from her mouth. That’s not the name of his soulmate and he has to bite in the knee-jerk instinct to correct her.

“Thank you, you too,” he says softly. “Hope you meet the right Luka. To be honest I’m not really looking to meet my soulmate right now. It’s not the right time.”

She pauses, then laughs. “Does your mum know that? Because – wow, that could have saved us a lot of time.”

Luka forces out a chuckle. Of course his mother knows. She has simply chosen to ignore his decision because she thinks she knows what is best for him. Ever since Luka had let her see the name, she has been on a mission to find his Spomenka. He can’t afford to have her study his so-called soulmark from up close – she might realize it’s not a soulmark at all. He just lets her catch glimpses of the name here and there, to make sure she thinks everything is normal.

“Ha, ha,” Luka says and hopes it sounds natural. “You’re right. That would have saved us a lot of time.” If only he could bring himself to tell his mother to stop setting him up on dates with all the Spomenkas she could find. “Again, I hope you meet your Luka. Sorry to disappoint but it’s not me.”

He wonders when Mirica told her she would be meeting him. He only learnt about her today but who knows how long she was stressing over this meeting. He feels unbidden anger rise in him. Not at her or Mirica but at his own mother for always trying to get her way because she simply thinks it is the best way for her children.

“Actually,” Spomenka starts but then has to break off to stop laughing. Her giggles are high-pitched and a little annoying. Luka’s glad she’s not his soulmate and he won’t have to see her ever again. Spomenka finally stops laughing and she throws a quick glance over her shoulder before leaning a bit closer to him. “My soulmate’s name is Luca and she’s from Hungary.”

Luka’s eyes go wide.

“I’ve already met her, she lives in Velika Kaniža,” she adds, a fond smile playing on her lips.

“That’s not too far,” Luka manages.

“Yeah,” she says and then her bright expression dims. “But neither of our families know. I’m not sure we’re ready for that kind of drama just yet. Luca finishes her school next year and then we can move in together and I can finish my school there. I can’t wait.”

“That sounds nice,” Luka says, envious. She is so brave and unapologetic. Luka knows the times have changed a lot since he was a little kid but he still wishes he could have been as carefree as she is about her mark. She told him, a perfect stranger, without an ounce of shame. She has decided to be with her soulmate despite her family’s disapproval. “I hope things works out for you. I’m sure they’ll come to terms with it.” Eventually.

“Thanks. You too,” she nods to his wrist. “Hope it works out with her.”

Luka could tell her – but he doesn’t. He just considers it for a fleeting moment, imagining what it would be like to have someone know this about him so he wouldn’t feel so alone. The worst part of keeping his secret is that it needs to stay a secret form everyone and there isn’t a single person Luka isn’t deceiving. From his parents to his friends and his teammates, from his team and the fans, no one knows the truth but him. He’s been keeping the secret for years and he can’t risk anyone knowing about it. He can’t risk someone holding that much power over him. He barely knows Spomenka and it would be foolish to tell her just because he can sympathise with the situation Spomenka and her Luca are in.

“Thanks,” he says simply and watches her get up on her feet. He sees her to the door and tries to tune out the way the kitchen floorboards creak as his mother quickly tries to get away from the door where she’s been eavesdropping. Luka can picture her quite easily, as she hastily sits down and picks up her needle and a thread and busies herself with adding a row of six neat petals to her current needle lace project. By the time he comes to join her in the kitchen, she will look like she never left her chair but Luka would know better.

Spomenka doesn’t give him hug but she waves him goodbye, once again wishing him good luck before leaving. She is actually a sweet girl, he has to admit that. His mother means well and she hates to see him miserable. The only trouble is, she can’t help him any with this particular issue. Luka has made his decision and there is no going back now. He’ll never know for sure who his soulmate was supposed to be. Even if he were to meet the person who was meant to be his soulmate, there wouldn’t be any recognition. He only has the memory of the name that used to be on his wrist when he was a little kid. He’ll never feel the spark of the first time meeting. It’s supposed to be electrifying, it’s supposed to steal one’s breath away. Luka has robbed himself of the chance to experience all that. Instead, he has titles and trophies and awards and he gets to do the thing he loves so deeply – he gets to play. That’s all that matters.

“Well?” His mother looks up eagerly from her needlework when Luka returns to the kitchen.

“She seems interesting,” he says. Mirica’s daughter is not exactly what Luka has been picturing. For one thing, Spomenka is too young. She is already taken which Luka hadn’t been expecting either. And most notably, she is braver than he has ever been because she chose to trust her love.

Luka is glad he won’t have to be seeing her again. He’s not sure he could keep himself from thinking about all the what-ifs of the paths his life could have taken and that’s a dangerous thing to consider.

“But?” His mother inquires.

Luka says nothing. His soulmate wasn’t supposed to be a _girl_ but Luka would be the last person to point that out to his mother.

“She’s not your soulmate,” his mother states flatly.

“No. She was too young for me anyway.”

His mother misinterprets the cause of his suddenly bitter expression and she gives his shoulder a squeeze. “You’ll find her, Luka,” she says with conviction, “just don’t lose hope.”

“Thank you, mother,” Luka rasps.

It’s been nice to see his mother again but right now, he can’t wait to be back in Madrid.


	4. Chapter 4

**…**

_In which Sergio confiscates Luka’s car keys._

**…**

Luka takes it back. It was _great_ to have been back home, where it was his mother doing all the supervising and _not him_.

“Put that thing down, Sergio.” Luka makes a half-hearted attempt to get the kitchen knife away from Sergio.

Sergio, predictably, holds the knife high up above his head, out of Luka’s reach. “Nu-uh-uh,” he singsongs as he dodges Luka’s fingers.

“Put that thing down before you hurt yourself,” Luka says sternly. He means it, he’s _painfully_ familiar with the tragic track record Sergio has with kitchen utensils.

“But I want to help!”

“Oh,” Luka begins in an overly sweet tone, “in that case, here are the bowls and the bags of chips, get it ready.

Sergio scoffs. “That’s a kid’s job.”

“See? Perfectly suitable.”

“I’m not a kid.”

“Sometimes you make me wonder,” Luka says. He eyes the knife and tries to predict the outcome of using the old tickling trick. It could be an easy win or it could result in an accident. Sergio holding a knife is an accident waiting to happen anyway, so after a bit of wavering, Luka takes his chances. He slips his fingers under Sergio’s arms reaching for his ribs and he gets the angle just right – practise makes perfect, after all – and he mercilessly tickles the sensitive spot there.

Sergio squawks but has enough control to set the knife aside on the kitchen counter as he tries to shy away from Luka. “Says you as you tickle me into submission,” Sergio wheezes out in between the chokes of laughter that tear from his mouth. “Not fair, little man, not fair.”

Luka quickly swipes the knife from the counter and starts slicing the zucchini. “Make sure there are chips on every table.”

“Still not a kid,” Sergio says.

Luka shrugs. “Someone has to do it. You wanted to be useful? Then be useful.”

Sergio gives Luka an unimpressed look. “Do I have to remind you that this is my house, my kitchen and my knife–”

“It’s also your fingers and I bet you like them attached to where they are right now, don’t you,” Luka points out.

Sergio’s expression turns into a scowl but he doesn’t have any more arguments.

“Grab the chips and go,” Luka says, waving the knife to point to the veranda.

With an annoyed grumble, Sergio grabs the chips and the bowls. The door slides open and a while later Luka hears the loud clattering as Sergio sets the bowls on the tables.

“Bossy little shit,” Sergio _loudly_ says to himself on the veranda.

In the kitchen, Luka rolls his eyes and grabs the bell peppers to get them sliced as well.

**…**

“Ugh,” Sergio says when he sees the state of the sausages Toni has brought with him. “Didn’t your mum teach you not to play with your food?”

Toni gives him a blank stare. “How else would you get the skin all crunchy and the inside tender?”

“The, uh, the spikes are already turning black,” Sergio notes, trying to get Toni to take them off the flame. “There’s a difference between ‘crunchy’ and ‘rapidly becoming a fire hazard’, you know?”

“They’re not done yet, you just have to wait!”

“The skin is cracking open, it’s going to fall off, right into the flames. Dude, this is a mess. This is a massacre of a bratwurst!”

“They’re little… _Igel_ , you know?”

Sergio frowns when he considers the miserable heaps of sausages. “You should get your eyes checked if you think these resemble eagles. Who let you man the grill anyway?”

Toni makes a frustrated noise and nips at Sergio’s hand with the tongs. “Die Igel!”

“Oh hey, is that Marcelo? I think I see him with the beers, he’s talking to Karim,” Luka says quickly and shoves at Sergio to get him moving.

“Took his time,” Sergio grumbles, forgetting all about Toni’s ‘massacre of a bratwurst’ in favour of finding Marce. Where is Marce, there is beer.

Toni keeps glaring at their backs, Luka can feel it. He makes a mental note to send Lucas his way because the guy has cast-iron stomach and is always happy to try anything Toni attempts to grill.

**…**

“I’m not drunk, Sergio, c’mon,” Luka laughs and he’s lying again. He laughs harder. If he gets any better at this, he’ll be able to lie to himself and that will be pretty useful.

Sergio is grinning at him but he’s also keeping Luka’s car keys firmly clasped in his hand. “No way, I’m not letting you go anywhere. You’re staying here with me tonight.”

Luka can’t stop laughing. “No, I’m not.”

“Your room is always ready,” Sergio says.

Luka doesn’t mind sleeping in the guest room but he wants the keys. “Give me the keys.”

Sergio opens his palm and dangles the keychain from his index finger but the moment Luka launches himself at Sergio, he hides the keys in his palm again. Luka trips over Sergio’s feet and breaks his fall against Sergio’s chest. “Whoa, steady there.”

Luka straightens up. “Give me the keys back, Sergio. I swear I’m not driving anywhere, I just want them on me so _you_ don’t lose them again.”

The keys remain in Sergio’s hand and Luka tries to pry Sergio’s fingers open to get them back. He gets his fingers around Sergio’s wrist and then Sergio gasps and flinches away and the keys fall to the ground.

Triumphant, Luka bends over for them. “A-ha!” He stands back up and the world takes a moment to adjust. Luka blinks at Sergio only to find the Spaniard staring at him with his mouth open. “Didn’t think I had it in me, did you!” Luka preens, twirling the keys around his pinkie.

Sergio finally closes his mouth but he still watches Luka oddly. Hah, he should already know Luka can be swift and nifty when he needs to be. Luka pockets the keys.

“Let’s just get you in bed,” Sergio says primly, always the sore loser.

“Thought you’d never ask,” Luka murmurs and it’s so easy to wind his arms around Sergio and plaster himself against his chest that it’s hard to remember why he shouldn’t.

Sergio doesn’t laugh at the joke. He really is a sore loser. But Luka got his keys back so his mood is great.

Sergio helps him climb up the stairs. There are too many stairs but the bed is soft and he falls asleep the moment he lies down.

**…**


	5. Chapter 5

**…**

_In which Sergio wants to catch up._

**…**

Luka wakes up in one of Sergio’s guest rooms. He rubs a hand over his face, groans and waits for his eyes to adjust to the semi-darkness of the room. The curtains are drawn even though Luka doubts he was so farsighted last night. The room is familiar to him by now because whenever he stays over, he somehow always ends up in here. His toothbrush is in the walk-in bathroom, forgotten from the last time he stayed overnight. He drinks some water straight from the tap, trying to wash the foul taste out of his mouth.

Sergio is nowhere to be found but he likes to go running in the mornings, regardless of the weather. He must be better off after yesterday’s get-together than Luka because Luka, well, he counts it as a success that he wasn’t so hungover to throw up the moment he blinked his eyes open. The mere idea of any strenuous activity makes his stomach turn.

He leaves a sticky note for Sergio on the mirror in the entryway.

`Remind me to never ever trust Toni and whatever brand of beer he demands Marce brings.`

In truth, Luka blames the rum more than Toni’s beer but he has no idea who brought the rum. It’s easier to point a finger at Toni and blame Luka’s pitiful headache on him.

Luka drives himself back home and crawls back into bed. If anyone asks, he’s jetlagged and he needs to catch up on his sleep to be well rested for the training tomorrow morning. They’re playing Villarreal next.

**…**

The following morning after the training, just when Luka is tying up his sneakers, there is a hand on his shoulder. Luka glances up and it’s Sergio, towering over him, lips moving. Luka makes a gesture for Sergio to stop as he reaches for his earbuds. “What?”

“How was Croatia?”

Luka scoots over to let Sergio sit next to him on the bench. “Good, yeah. Good.”

“I want you to tell me all about it,” Sergio says in an obnoxious drawl that makes Luka want to roll his eyes.

“I doubt that.”

“Lukita, you wound me. I haven’t seen you in forever and I want to catch up. Don’t you play hard to get.”

Luka forces out a laugh. “You’ve seen me just the other day. I was there for the team bonding night, remember?”

Sergio quickly raises up two fingers. “A, don’t call it that, you make it sound _compulsory_ and compulsory means no fun,” he says as he curls down his index finger so that only his middle finger is up. “And b, it wasn’t _me_ who was too drunk to remember what he was doing.”

“Shut up,” Luka mumbles, swatting at Sergio’s hand.

“My point is, we barely got to exchange any words. So what do you say? Movie?”

“My head kinda hurts, I don’t think a movie is the best idea right now.”

“Must have been one hell of a headache if it still lasts. Is that why you’ve been listening to music?” Luka opens his mouth to explain but Sergio goes on, “Never mind that. I have just the right movie for you! Real quiet. Real creepy. I swear.”

Luka isn’t saying yes but he can’t force himself to say no to Sergio either. He sighs. “Look, I–”

Sergio interrupts him, “C’mon, it’s not like you’re busy, are you?”

“What do you know?”

Sergio scrunches his face, a small frown appearing on his brow. “Did you have other plans for tonight?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Luka says and ducks his head so his hair falls to his face and his smile isn’t showing.

Sergio folds his arms. “Hah, as if. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Luka puts one earbud back in his ear but he hasn’t hit the play just yet. “You won’t see anything, I don’t kiss and tell.” Sergio is wrong anyway, he hasn’t been listening to music. He’s been listening to a Spanish audiobook because sometimes after he comes back from Croatia, it’s hard to get back in the right mindset and hearing the language helps. Especially if it’s only one speaker with a slow, clear voice and there’s no background noise.

The frown on Sergio’s face deepens. “You don’t date outside of your bond,” he says flatly but then, in a small, confused tone he adds, “do you?”

Luka reaches for the second earbud. “I want a takeout. Thai.”

Sergio grins. “How many cheat days a week are you having, Luka?”

“As many as I need.”

“I’ll see you tonight.”

“I won’t open the door if I don’t see the takeout,” Luka threatens.

**…**

Luka has a swimming session scheduled after the morning practise and then he has a massage where he spends the whole fifty minutes with his eyes closed, listening to the audiobook while his muscles are being poked and prodded to the point of it hurting bad rather than good. He doesn’t finish listening to the story, it’s too long for that. The story is complex and there are too many names that sound way too similar and Luka is going to complain loudly the next time Marce tries to give him any tips because the guy who Luka had pinned as the killer ends up getting murdered.

Marco is sitting alone in the team’s canteen when Luka makes it to the lunch. They’re both here a bit early, before the usual rush hour kicks in and most people on the team make it here.

“Hey Luka, you’ve just missed Sergio, he grabbed a snack and went to meet with the training coach,” Marco says when Luka pulls a chair next to the kid.

“I know,” Luka says. His and Sergio’s schedules don’t really meet today. “We won’t meet until tonight.”

“Oh. I see,” Marco says, nodding. “Was there something you needed to talk about?”

“No, no. I don’t like eating alone,” Luka explains. “And I wanted to ask how’s the new dog doing? Do you have any shoes left that aren’t chewed?”

Marco brightens, sets his fork aside and gets his phone, pulling up the gallery that he shows Luka. “Don’t be rude, the puppy is a darling!”

Marco hands over the phone so Luka can flick through the album of the dog. Luka makes a few appreciative noises and laughs when he sees a picture of the dog chewing through a pair of shoes. “I knew it!”

Marco peers at the screen. “Oh yeah, it was a pair of dad’s old ones so it didn’t really matter.”

Luka snorts. “I think your dad would beg to differ.”

Marco snatches the phone back. “I’m getting him a pair of new ones for Christmas. Custom made.”

“Um. That sounds nice,” Luka says.“You’re shopping for Christmas already?”

“I have pretty much everyone figured out, yeah.”

Luka hasn’t even started thinking about what to get everyone for Christmas this year.

**…**


	6. Chapter 6

**…**

_In which Luka and Sergio aren’t on a date._

**…**

It’s a little after ten when Sergio shows up at Luka’s, shoving the take out boxes into his arms as he toes off his shoes and shrugs off his jacket. He’s wearing a shirt with a truly eye-gouging mix of colours and patterns. Sergio’s dress code for a casual evening is really something else, Luka ponders. And they aren’t even going out.

Sergio sees him staring at the shirt and he pokes Luka in his chest. “You have no fashion sense to speak off.”

Luka looks down at his team-issued sweatshirt. “It’s comfortable.”

“It’s _plain_. Why don’t you let a bit of colour enter your life?”

“Someone has to compensate for that rainbow clash of yours.”

Sergio snorts and makes his way to the living room. By the time Luka joins him, the opening scene of _A Quiet Place_ is already playing on the flat screen.

“Take a seat, get ready to be scared.” Sergio pats the spot next to him and Luka settles down on the couch, lips curling into an amused smile. It’s nice to see Sergio this relaxed.

“Do your worst.”

“I swear this one will have you wide awake all night.”

“You say that about every horror movie we watch,” Luka points out.

“You’re way too picky,” Sergio says as he opens one of the takeout boxes. He makes a face when he sees the lettuce and quickly switches the larb for Luka’s box and starts wolfing down the satay.

“Maybe it’s just that I’m not as easily scared.”

“Two words. Hailstorm. Umbrella.”

“Two words,” Luka parrots. “Fuck. You.”

Sergio swallows a mouthful and says, “Technically, those were four words.”

Luka gives Sergio a pointed glare and Sergio responds by inhaling his food and turning to watch the movie. Which actually isn’t shaping up to be all that bad, although Luka doubts he’ll so much as try to stay light footed tonight.

A while later, Luka realizes Sergio is staring at him instead of watching the family make some fatal choices regarding their safety. There is a hungry expression on Sergio’s face and Luka figures it’s because he is still eating while Sergio has polished off his plate.

“You’re insatiable,” Luka says. Sergio leans closer, blinking slowly and keeping eye-contact. It’s almost like that moment from after the game and it makes Luka all twitchy.

Sergio’s face is close and his voice is hushed when he says “Yeah? Is it a bad thing that I want more?”

With a sigh, Luka offers the spring roll for Sergio to take. Sergio cranes his neck as Luka holds out the spring roll. He expects Sergio to take it in his hand but Sergio interprets is at Luka hand feeding him and closes his lips around it to take a bite. Some of the filling spills and Luka curses, picking it up into his palm before it leaves a stain on his couch. Sergio takes the remaining half of the roll, shoves it into his mouth and retreats back to his side of the couch.

Sergio keeps glancing at him but Luka silently holds out the box of spring rolls, this time letting Sergio pick as much as he wants himself.

The film gets dramatic again and Luka forgets about whatever weirdness he felt between them. Sergio seems content to watch the film as well, occasionally stealing more of Luka’s food. Luka tolerates it.

**…**

He falls asleep before the film is halfway thoguh.

He wakes up with a start – probably to his own snore, judging from the shit-eating grin on Sergio’s face.

“Shut up,” Luka mumbles around a yawn.

“Ah. I’m not saying anything,” Sergio says.

“Then you’re thinking it too loud,” Luka complains, trying to get himself properly awake. “The film was boring anyway.”

Something in Sergio’s eyes shifts and his expression loses some of its cheekiness. “How would you know? You fell asleep before they even got to the bridge.”

Luka remembers that scene from the opening credits. “Hey! I wasn’t asleep for that one!”

“Maybe not for the first bridge scene,” Sergio says and Luka frowns because – was there really another bridge scene or was Sergio just fucking with him?

“Either way,” Luka says, “I fell asleep just fine so I declare your horror movie night a failure. Again.”

“One of these days, Lukita, one of these days I’ll find exactly what makes you _tick_ and then you’ll be sorry.”

Luka’s one true fear is people finding out the truth about his soulmark and there are no horror movies about that so Luka is pretty sure he is fine. “I’m already shaking in my boots,” he responds.

“You should be. Maybe the films aren’t affecting you but they sure as hell are affecting me. It’s just a matter of time till I snap.” Sergio gives him his best blank stare and launches across the couch to wrap his fingers around Luka’s neck but the effect is ruined completely by the mirth in his eyes.

Luka struggles to get free, laughing. They manage to elbow the TV remote to the floor and throw off one of the cushions before they end up in a tangled heaving mess. Sergio has Luka’s neck in a chokehold but he’s laughing too hard to squeeze. 

Luka stops fighting and leans against Sergio. The feeling that has been sitting heavy in the pit of his stomach since the moment his mother asked him about his soulmate finally loosens. Luka laughs, smacking Sergio in his chest. Sergio’s heartbeat is fast and strong under his fingers.

“I guess… I should get going,” Sergio says after a moment, glancing at the watch on Luka’s wrist. “Playing Villarreal tomorrow and all that.”

“Technically,” Luka says, imitating Sergio’s tone from earlier, “we’re playing them today.”

Sergio slides off the couch to the ground and then springs to his feet. “Technically,” he agrees. “See you later today, then? I’ll see myself out.”

“You won’t make me suffer through the film again?” He asks. Sergio shakes his head and grabs his jacket. Luka isn’t sure if he’s disappointed or relieved.

“You’re a lost cause, Lukita.”

“You like me anyway,” Luka calls after him and there is a moment when Sergio is already stepping outside and Luka catches a glimpse of his face before the front door swings shut, and Sergio’s smile from before seems to turn into a wry grimace and that’s just plain wrong. It must have been a trick of light Luka supposes, blinking at the closed door and listening as Sergio’s steps fade away. Tonight has been great and it was good to see Sergio again without the rest of the team distracting them. Sergio would tell him if something was bothering him.

**…**


	7. Chapter 7

**…**

_In which Sergio says regrettable things._

**…**

The easy mood from the night of the get-together with the team is just a distant memory when they get demolished by Villarreal. Something vicious in Luka’s head whispers _‘told you so’_. Their previous win was just a fluke.

Him, Sergio and Gareth are the last three people who are still in the meeting room where they all have been forced to re-watch the game on tape, analyse their mistakes and suggest strategies to avoid repeating the same mistakes next time. All the team wanted to do was go back home and lick their wounds but the coach insisted they needed to do it now when the game was still fresh on their minds and the bitter taste of their loss was still sharp in their memory. The coach seemed confident that this would help but now that it’s over, Luka pretty much doubts the coach got what he wanted. Luka’s anger has waned, leaving him exhausted but Sergio has been getting more and more agitated the longer it went on.

Now the torture is finally over, the coach is gone and it’s just the three of them.

Gareth stands up from the couch and cracks his spine, cupping both sides of his neck in his palms. “I don’t know about you two but I’m knackered, I’m ready for the kip.”

“Oh yeah, you go get your beauty sleep, you must be pretty tired from warming up the bench,” Sergio say snidely.

Gareth looks down at Sergio. “Not my fault it went all to pot in the second half.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you even _try_ ,” Sergio hisses.

“Sergio,” Luka sighs but he gets ignored by both of them.

“I don’t know what to tell you, mate,” Gareth says with a shrug.

“I got more chances than you did,” Sergio says, voice raising.

“Yeah, maybe that’s the problem because the second one that went in was because of your cock-up.” In one jerky movement, Gareth undoes his man bun and wraps the hair-tie around his wrist just below his soulmark cover. He smoothes his hair down over his shoulders with his fingers, then he stretches his arms and yawns. His hair stays put. It looks sleek, so unlike Luka’s own unruly curls that can’t decide which way they want to point most of the time.

“I wouldn’t have to be there covering your asses if you didn’t lose the ball in the first place,” Sergio goes on with his tirade.

“I was doing my fucking best and you know it,” Gareth says and he’s not backing out of the challenge he must see in Sergio’s eyes, he meets the death glare head on, standing tall and unyielding and Luka has to admire him for it. He’s faced Sergio’s wrath several times and it’s never easy. Gareth doesn’t look bothered in the slightest and it’s not the first time Luka has envied Gareth his height. He bets Gareth doesn’t ever feel like he’s about to be bulldozed when he deflects Sergio’s unjust accusations.

Luka tucks his knees up, rests his hands on them and studies his own cover. It’s an easy way to make sure he’s not staring. Being exposed to Sergio’s anger so often helped Luka learn how to navigate his way through it, finding out the hard way what was the right time to say something and when it was best to let things go and wait for Sergio to cool off first.

Sergio’s tone is sharp. “Were you? Because it sure as hell didn’t look like it.”

“What do you want me to do?” Gareth asks with a shrug, his voice perfectly levelled.

“I want you to fucking leave already,” Sergio explodes.

Luka sucks in a startled breath, head snapping up. He can hardly believe Sergio said that. He watches Gareth’s face contort into an ugly scowl. They both know Sergio wasn’t talking about Gareth leaving the meeting room.

“Nice one,” Gareth says.

“Gareth,” Luka starts but Gareth doesn’t even look at him, eyes narrowing on Sergio.

“You know what, Sergio? Screw you.”

Neither him nor Sergio say anything as they watch Gareth storm off. Luka briefly debates getting up and going after Gareth but it would do him no favours in Sergio’s book. Better to leave Gareth to calm down and get in touch with him later and try to get him not to take Sergio’s remarks personally. Luka’s with Gareth on this one, no matter how upset he was, Sergio shouldn’t have crossed the line.

Luka stays seated where he is. He doesn’t comment on Gareth’s departure, not wanting to say something that Sergio would take the wrong way and focus his frustrations on him. Instead, he clears his throat and nods to the flat screen that they’ve been using to watch the recaps of the game. “So,” Luka starts and Sergio tenses when he glances at him, eyes dark. “You think we can get Netflix on that?”

A bit of the tension eases off Sergio’s shoulders as he says, “We can sure try.”

**…**

They’ve just started a third episode of a TV show Luka would never admit they watch when Sergio huffs, apropos of nothing. “I don’t know why I said that.” Sergio runs a hand over his face, then adds, “Shit, I didn’t even mean that.”

Having a command over his emotions has never been Sergio’s strong suit but there’s no gentle way of pointing it out to Sergio without getting him agitated again. “Um,” Luka says. “It was an awful game.”

“Yeah, it was. And all that fucking rain.” Sergio shudders.

“I hate when it rains,” Luka agrees.

“With fucking Villarreal, you know?”

“Yeah.” Luka does know. The weight of the loss is wearing down all of them.

Sergio sniffles, earning himself a puzzled glance from Luka. “What’s up with you, you’ve been acting weird all day.”

“Nothing,” Sergio shakes his head. Luka keeps giving him an _‘oh really?’_ look until Sergio heaves a sigh and says, “I’m just so fucking cold.”

“You’re always cold,” Luka says and he doesn’t protest when Sergio snuggles up to him on the couch to soak up Luka’s warmth.

Luka gives it half an episode before he says, cautious, “Sergio?”

“Hm?”

“Gareth – he was, um, pretty upset when he left.”

For a moment Luka isn’t sure how it’s going to go but then Sergio leans his head back against the couch. “You think I should apologize?”

Luka keeps his tone light. “It can’t hurt, right?”

“Yeah. But I’ve said it so many times I’m not sure it can make any difference.” Sergio sits up and mutes the TV. “Do you think an apology gift would work?”

“You might give it a try.”

Sergio bobs his head several times in agreement but then he starts shaking his head instead. “You wouldn’t have any ides, would you? I don’t think he’d appreciate it if I sent him flowers.”

Luka smiles, imagining Gareth’s baffled expression when receiving _flowers_. “He strikes me as the sunflowers kind of guy,” he says, deadpan.

Sergio laughs. “Yeah, better not.”

“For the record,” Luka goes on in the same tone, “I like forget-me-nots.”

Sergio laughs harder and it’s nice to hear the sound during a night like this.

“For real though,” Sergio says, his laughter turning to cough, “any suggestions? What does the guy even like?”

Luka bites his lip. “Um. There’s this chocolate bar he really likes.”

“…Chocolate? Really?”

“It’s really hard to get your hands on it here! He usually stocks up whenever he flies back home.”

“Does he now?” Sergio’s eyes narrow. “And you know all about that, huh?”

“So?” Luka huffs.

Sergio holds his palm up, placating. “You sweet tooth guys have to stick together, I get it, I get it.”

“Hey!”

“It’s fine. Chocolate. I like the idea. So, what did you say the chocolate is called?”

“Cadbury Dairy Milk Turkish Delight,” Luka mumbles.

Sergio makes him repeat it a few times as he grabs his phone, quickly tapping the screen to find the correct site to place his order. Luka watches him sort through the pages, face illuminated by the blue shine of the screen. “Hey, Lukita?”

“What?”

Sergio glances over at him, thumb hovering over the screen of his phone. “This Turkish Delight, it wouldn’t happen to be your guilty pleasure, too, would it?”

“Nah. Too much sugar, not enough chocolate,” Luka dismisses.

“Okay, good,” Sergio nods after a few final taps, he pockets the phone. “You feel like watching another episode?”

“Always,” Luka says, reaching for the remote to turn the volume back up.

He doesn’t mind when Sergio shifts back to their original position so they’re pressed close together. Sergio mutters something about being cold again and feeling sick but Luka’s not buying it, he can feel the heat radiating from him.

Before the third episode is over, Sergio falls asleep against Luka’s neck.

**…**


	8. Chapter 8

**…**

_In which Luka is on a quest to buy soup._

**…**

Turns out Sergio wasn’t lying about feeling sick. He got a cold.

“The docs sent him home,” Marce says as he’s wrapping the armband in place. “He had a fever, could barely keep himself up on his feet.”

“Um.” Luka can’t help the way his expression falls, face scrunching up in a frown. “We’ve got a game on Sunday.”

“He didn’t sound _that_ awful. He should be okay for the weekend. I think.”

Luka watches as Marce fiddles with the armband and straightens the jersey beneath it. He feels mild irritation – it’s not even necessary for Marce to have the armband for today’s practise.

He really hopes Sergio is back by Sunday.

**…**

The moment the practise finishes, he jogs up to catch with Gareth. “Hey, you’ve got a moment?”

Gareth glances down at him. “Something wrong?”

“No, no,” Luka is quick to assure. “I just wanted to talk about what happened yesterday-”

Gareth shrugs. “Nothing to talk about, mate. Sergio threw a wobbly, I fucked off.”

“Oh.”

“You still in for the game night, right?”

“Of course,” Luka says, even though it won’t be as much fun without being able to needle Sergio.

**…**

There is a small restaurant down the street from Luka’s. It’s cosy, clean and hardly ever packed. It’s run by an old woman who is also the cook. Her granddaughter is usually by the counter, taking the orders and the payments. The guests have to come grab their orders from her.

He found the place one day by an accident when he was walking back to his place and had to jump out of the way of a reckless guy on a bike who had a dog running beside him on a leash. Luka pressed himself close to the door in order not to get run over by either the guy or his dog, and he happened to look through the window inside the restaurant in time to see an old woman leaning over the counter to kiss a customer’s cheek while setting down a bowl with some food for the customer to take.

Before he knew it, Luka was stepping inside. He took in the trinkets on the shelf above the counter, the potted plants on each table and the lace tablecloths and he was reminded of his mother’s kitchen so suddenly and strongly he felt a familiar tug of homesickness around his heart.

“What can I get you, dear? I’ve just finished the chicken broth.”

“That, please.”

The soup came in a beige bowl with an darker brown outer rim and the broth was so clear Luka could see the flower pattern on the bottom of the bowl.

“Everything all right, dear?”

Luka glanced up, the woman came out from behind the counter and she was looking down at him with worry.

“Yes,” he croaked out, not about to explain the sudden wave of sentiment that came over him and nearly made him cry over a soup. “Everything’s all right.”

The woman sent a quick glance around her shop and when she saw that there was only a group of three students by the other end of the room who already had their meals in front of them, the woman sat down next to Luka and started chattering to him about her life. She was from Bulgaria, her name was Nadya and apparently, he looked like he was lost.

Luka shook his head. “I’m not lost.”

“Lost,” Nadya insisted. “And hungry.”

Before he knew it, he was ordering the second course and then desert.

Luka suspects it was his accent that kindled the spark of kinship in her but whatever reason she had, it worked. Every now and then he keeps coming back to her shop tucked away between two other buildings and barely noticeable from the street. Sometimes he comes back for Nadya’s soup but more usually for the chat that helps chase away any nostalgic longing.

**…**

Luka pushes open the door to Nadya’s restaurant, feeling a smile tug at the corners of his lips when he hears the familiar creak.

Nadya’s not behind the counter, it’s her granddaughter today but Luka’s not here to talk anyway.

“Hey, what can I get you?”

Luka places his Tupperware on the counter. “Could I get the chicken broth to go?” 

The granddaughter gasps as if Luka had said something atrocious. “To go?” She echoes, voice raising.

“Yeah.”

The girl crosses her arms. “No.”

“What?”

“You’ve heard me,” she says and with one finger she gingerly pushes the blue plastic container back to Luka. “We don’t do that to soup here. It’s _plastic!_ Ew.”

“But–”

“If you want soup, you can eat it here. Do you want me to ring up the order?”

“I want soup – but I want to take it with me.”

The girl’s eyes bore into him and Luka realizes that she’s looking down her nose at him, very literally. “I’m sorry, sir,” she says, “you can’t order soup ‘to go’.”

“It’s not for me,” Luka tries to explain. “It’s for a friend.”

“A friend, huh,” the girl drawls, her eyes automatically fixing on Luka’s cover. Luka spares a glance to make sure nothing is showing. It isn’t, of course it isn’t, but the urge to check is too strong to ignore. “Well, then how about you get your _friend_ to come here for a date and you can both enjoy our soup.”

“They… they’re sick, they can’t come,” Luka says vaguely. He isn’t sure if the girl knows him or not. Nadya sure as hell doesn’t which is refreshing but while Nadya has no idea who he is, Luka can’t assume the same about the granddaughter.

The girl steals another look at Luka’s cover. “Oh, sorry to hear that.”

“Listen,” Luka says, trying to make his eyes wide and pleading. “I’d cook some soup for them myself but I don’t want to end up poisoning them.” He’s nowhere near that tragic in the kitchen but the girl doesn’t have to know and self-deprecating humour has always worked best for him.

It works this time, too.

“Oh, all right, all right. Just this once. And don’t tell my grandma I did that, she’d bite my head off.”

“Just this once,” Luka grins and gives the girl double the usual price for the soup.

**…**


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update today, thank you for all your wonderful comments! ♥

**…**

_In which Sergio’s mum makes an appearance._

**…**

Luka lets himself inside Sergio’s house with the spare keys Sergio gave him ages ago. He tiptoes down the hallway, soft footed, not wanting to wake Sergio up if Sergio is sleeping. Sergio needs all the rest he can get so he’ll be up on his feet by Sunday.

Luka soundlessly opens and closes the door to the kitchen and when he turns, he sees Sergio’s mum already pottering around the kitchen. She doesn’t hear him enter but when she takes a step and spots him by the door, she lets out a startled cry and she flinches, hand flying to her chest. Shit.

“Um. Good evening, Mrs. Ramos,” Luka manages feebly. He’s holding up the steamed up Tupperware in front of him like a shield.

After taking a few heaving breaths, Sergio’s mum recovers. “Luka,” she gasps. “What a _lovely_ surprise.”

Luka sees where Sergio got his sense of humour. “Sorry about that, Mrs. Ramos.”

Sergio’s mum waves her hand. “I just didn’t expect to see you here.”

The same could be said about her, Luka muses. Although, if either of them has any right to be here, it’s not him. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to give you a scare.”

“Sergio didn’t mention you’ll be here.”

“He didn’t know,” Luka admits.

Sergio’s mum is cooking something on the stove, and there is a strong smell of garlic in the air. Luka notices the empty egg shells in a bowl on the kitchen counter and there’s also a bottle of sherry, already opened.

Luka’s intruding here, he realizes but before he can turn out and flee, Sergio’s mum asks, “What do you have there?”

Luka feels suddenly incredibly reluctant to let go of the Tupperware. “Um. Chicken broth,” he admits. “Bought from a shop,” he adds before Sergio’s mum could get any ideas of him in the kitchen, cooking for her son. Buying the soup is marginally less creepy, Luka thinks.

“Good. He never liked my sopa de ajo,” Sergio’s mum remarks, prying the container from Luka’s fingers and setting it on the counter. She opens the lid and sniffs at the soup. It passes her test.

“Um. And here’s some tea, Gareth swears by it,” Luka says, praying that Sergio’s mum won’t ask if it is Gareth sending Sergio the tea or Luka bringing it on his own accord. With nothing else to carry, Luka crosses his arms over his chest. It’s not his fault Gareth gives him tea every Christmas and by this point Luka can’t tell if it’s a gag gift or Gareth’s earnest effort to get Luka to start drinking it.

“How very sweet of you.”

Luka doesn’t blush. “Um.”

Sergio’s mum puts the soup away and turns to Luka. “I’m sorry but if you came to see Sergio, he’s sleeping.”

“It’s okay,” Luka says, “I’ll see him when he’s feeling better.” He fumbles a bit with his words and before he decides if that was his cue to leave or not, Sergio’s mum grabs the bottle of sherry and tilts it towards him.

“Luka, have a drink with me?” It doesn’t sounds like a question, especially considering Sergio’s mum is already grabbing two glasses.

“Um. Yes?” With trepidation, Luka takes a place at the table to which Sergio’s mum points.

Sergio’s mum pours them both a glass and hands it over to Luka with a small smile. “Here.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Ramos,” Luka says, fingers going tight around the stem of the glass.

Sergio’s mum takes a healthy gulp, then squeezes her eyes. “Why do you insist on calling me that, Luka? You make me feel like a hundred years old witch.”

Luka tries to hurry his apology. He swallows the sherry wrong and ends up coughing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. What would you like me to call you?”

“Call me mum for all I care,” she jokes, “but for heaven’s sake, don’t call me _that_. I’m not that old, am I?”

“Of course not, Mrs. Ramos,” Luka is quick to assure her. Then he winces, realizing what he just said. Damn it, didn’t she just ask him not to call her that? “Sorry. Um. Habit.”

She laughs, her nose scrunching up. “As charming as ever.”

“Yeah, we had to take seminars on that,” Luka says dryly just when she’s about to take another sip of her sherry. Luka can hear the clink of her teeth against the glass when she chuckles.

She sets her glass down and waggles a finger at Luka. “That was on purpose, wasn’t it.”

Luka makes his eyes go wide, “Not at all!” It’s truth but he makes his voice go higher than usual and he overdoes the earnest face and he knows she’ll think he’s lying. Years of constant lying taught him how to manipulate the truth to suit his needs.

**…**

Sergio’s mum is pleasant to talk to and Luka can’t help but compare her to his mother’s usual inquisition. He doesn’t mind telling Sergio’s mum things that he abhors telling his own mother. Somehow, the way his mother phrases her questions makes him irritated but the way Sergio’s mum asks, like there’s no pressure in answering them, makes him volunteer more information than he thought he would be okay sharing with her.

Luka keeps expecting the other shoe to drop, he waits for her to set her glass aside, waits for her expression to turn stern, he can just about picture her asking, ‘But for real, now, Luka. Why are you bringing my son soup and paying him visits when he’s sick? What’s your intent?’

Luka runs numerous excuses through his head but he can’t settle on one that would sound the most believable. He’ll have to wing it. He’s ready for the questions to come.

Sergio’s mum, however, never questions his presence in the house. Like Luka being here is the least puzzling thing on Earth.

She’s curious to know what he usually does for the Christmas break if they have any, she seems interested to hear about his summer vacation, she asks what he misses most about his home when he’s in Madrid.

She finishes cooking the sopa de ajo and asks him if he’d like to have some at the same time as she’s already pouring it in a plate for him.

It’s getting pretty late by the time Luka polishes the plate and finishes telling Sergio’s mum about that one time when they were leaving a hotel and the motion detector at the exit was so high up the sliding door wouldn’t open for him and he crashed into it, ending up in a pitiful heap on the ground with this luggage thrown all around him and Sergio cackling so hard he had to slump against the nearest wall so he wouldn’t fall over.

“I should get going,” he says, taking in the time. “We have a game night with some of the guys from the team.”

“Of course, Luka.”

“It was lovely to see you again,” Luka says, stopping himself just in time not to call her Mrs. Ramos again.

“A pleasant surprise,” she says with a smirk and pulls him in to kiss his cheeks before seeing him out. “I’ll tell Sergio you said hi.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

It’s her last chance to get any answers about his impromptu visit but she lets him walk away without asking.

He feels her curious gaze at his back all the way out of the house.

**…**

“What’s up with you?” Toni asks, prodding Luka’s shin with the tip of his foot.

“Just bad luck,” Luka dismisses, glancing at the screen that declares he’s been killed once again, game over. He hasn’t been much use to his newly assigned team.

“You’re pretty distracted,” Toni says.

“Just not feeling it tonight,” Luka says. “Lucas’ strategy was–”

“There was nothing wrong with Lucas’ strategy,” Toni says quickly. “Just bad luck!”

“Um. Right.”

Luka glances at his phone, checking the time. He wonders if it would be rude to head back home already.

**…**


	10. Chapter 10

**…**

_In which Sergio returns the Tupperware. ___

__

**…**

The team is warming up before the Sunday match. Sergio isn’t even at the stadium so his health must be really poor. Luka stretches his arms, swinging them sideways.

Gareth is jogging in front of him, occasionally breaking into full speed sprint followed by an abrupt halt. He’ll be starting on the right side tonight. Luka is sure the position won’t be an issue. He remembers well how the two of them could manage to turn around a match for Tottenham if given the chance. Gareth can do marvels with his left foot.

Marce suddenly drops down in front of him and Luka, who has been following Gareth with his eyes, doesn’t notice in time and has to jump sideways to avoid crashing into Marce. “What the hell?”

Marce glances up, eyebrow raised. He’s tying up his shoelace. “A little touchy, aren’t you.”

Luka opens his mouth to make a retort but instead he sneezes.

Marce frowns. “You aren’t getting sick as well, are you?”

“Nonsense,” Luka waves his hand.

“You’ve spent a lot of time with Sergio, hope you didn’t catch it from him.”

“I’m fine, Marcelo,” Luka insists.

Marce gets up and touches Luka’s forehead with the back of his hand.

“I don’t have a fever, I feel fine,” Luka snaps. He’s fine and he isn’t spending too much time with Sergio, no matter what Marce seems to think.

“If you say so. But tell the doctors if you’re not feeling well.”

“I feel fine!” Luka almost shouts. “I would tell them – if there was anything to tell.”

“Yeah, be sure to do that, we don’t want you infecting the rest of the team.”

Luka groans and picks up his speed to catch up with Gareth.

**…**

They manage to win against Rayo Vallecano and the team goes out to celebrate.

Benze thumps Luka’s back so hard Luka almost spills his drink. “What a night, what a night!”

Luka grins and laughs and cheers when Toni suggests they play at darts. While Luka doesn’t do half bad, Toni keeps losing miserably. Everyone finds that hilarious since Toni was the one to suggest they make it a competition. Luka isn’t sure who wins, maybe Case or Lucas, but he knows he has a really good time. It would be even better if Sergio were there with them. He would probably be challenging Toni into a duel and trying to get bets involved; the man knew how to hustle and he was goddamn lucky, too, hardly ever missing even when he was three sheets to the wind.

“I spoke to his physio,” Marce says.

“What?”

“His physio was told to expect him back on Wednesday.”

Luka doesn’t try to pretend he has no idea who is Marce talking about. “On Wednesday? Already?”

On the other side of the room, Toni starts cursing in German.

Marce nods. “I’m sure he’ll at least join us for the practise.”

“Okay.” Luka smiles into his glass as he takes a gulp.

**…**

“My mum said you paid me a visit,” Sergio says.

“Um.”

“Did you?” Luka considers lying and Sergio must sense it because he produces the Tupperware. “You did. My mum is not a liar.”

“Um, hey, yeah, I stopped by.”

“Hm. Here.” Sergio shoves the empty container into Luka’s arms.

“I…”

Sergio waves him off. “What did you tell my mum?”

“What would I tell her?” Luka says, heartbeat quickening.

Sergio makes a face and rephrases, “What did she tell you, then?”

“She told me to call her mum,” Luka says, trying to lighten the mood but Sergio doesn’t seem to find the remark amusing. He stares at Luka for a few long moments but when Luka doesn’t volunteer any more information, Sergio shakes his head, thumps Luka on his back and goes to talk to Benze.

**…**

He gets back home and the stupid Tupperware is still sitting unassumingly on his kitchen table and Luka grabs it, annoyed, to shove it into the depths of his cupboard so he doesn’t have to see it.

The container is not empty as he had thought, there’s something inside it. Luka opens the lid to find a small sticky note inside. It reads,

`Thanks!  
–S`

The lid falls from Luka’s fingers. He hastily pulls out a chair and collapses into it, weak in the knees.

It’s not like he didn’t know it before seeing this note – how many people named Sergio that could have been his soulmate does one meet in one’s life time – but to see the familiar scrawl of the _S_ , it’s like a sudden punch to his face. He’s been aware of it before and there has been the hum in his thoughts, reminding him that his soulmate’s name had been Sergio. An insistent whisper telling him that this Sergio, his friend, his teammate and his captain, should have been his.

It was meant to be Sergio. They’ve met. They could have been happy.

But Luka burned that bridge instead.

Luka doesn’t even realize he’s pulling at the cover, untying the knots that hold it in place until he’s staring at the underside of his wrist, at the tattoo he was so deep set on putting there. Instead of his mark, he has this. A name that isn’t real.

He runs his thumb over the name and he shudders.

He stares at it until his eyes go misty and if a few tears escape him, well, there’s no one else with him to know it.

**…**

Marce’s hand stops him from leaving right after the practise. Marce shifts his hand from gripping Luka’s arm to hug Luka across his back. “Lukita. Is there something wrong between you and Sergio?”

“What? No. Why would you ask?”

Marce shrugs. “I thought you guys were fighting again.”

From the outside, it might have looked bad, Luka ponders. But it wasn’t like that at all. Sergio was just expressive and Luka was having none of his bullshit. Sergio’s ideas were completely useless but apparently it wasn’t enough just to tell Sergio because the stubborn idiot needed to see it for himself and waste a whole hour practising something that was doomed to fail from the beginning. Just because the others were willing to entertain the idea, it didn’t mean Luka was going to stand aside and watch the disaster unfold.

“Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know, Lukita, you tell me. You’ve been moping the whole time he was sick but the moment he gets back you keep avoiding him?”

“I haven’t been avoiding him,” Luka denies. “I spoke to him just now.”

“Yeah, I’m sure the whole dressing room could hear it as the two of you _spoke_ ,” Marce says.

“Just talking tactics.” Luka tucks his hair behind his ears. “We can talk without getting into an argument.”

“Didn’t always use to be like that,” Marce reminds him.

“It’s different now,” Luka waves Marce’s worries off. “We’re fine, really.”

“If you say so.” The frown between Marce’s eyebrows doesn’t disappear. Luka will have to make sure to speak to Sergio when Marce is within an earshot to ease his worry. The last thing Luka needs is Marce paying a close attention to how are the things between him and Sergio.

**…**

Luka feels restless and decides to swap around the activities in his schedule so he can burn off some extra energy while running. He does his usual track of seven kilometres and then eases off his pace.

He jogs back to his place and sees the darkened windows of the empty house. The silence that awaits him inside seems like the most hostile thing ever. As a spur of the moment’s decision, Luka turns left instead of right and in no time he’s pushing past the door into Nadya’s restaurant.

The granddaughter is behind the counter again and Luka can’t help the way his mouth drops open when he sees her. She’s gotten herself a new haircut and it’s short and um, very orange. Naranča. It’s all that keeps running through his mind. Naranča. Naranča.

She catches him staring and drops her head into her hands and moans in misery. “I know! It’s so vile!”

“Um. Hi.”

“Hey,” she sighs, “What can I get you today?” Luka is still staring instead of placing his order and she glares at him. “Could you not? It’s rude.”

“Oh, sure. It’s just so… eye-catching.” Each time he sees an orange from now on it’s bound to run through his mind again. Naranča.

“Nice save. So? The soup special to get you started?”

“Sure,” Luka says and then, after brief hesitation, he asks with a small smile, “and could I get some orange juice, please?”

Her eyes narrow and she points a finger at him. “I’m onto you.” Luka gives her his best wide-eyed, confused puppy look. Naranča snorts, not buying it for a second but she turns around and grabs some oranges from the fruit crates and starts peeling them. “Coming right up.”

She’s got spirit.

Luka decides he likes her. But not her hair colour.

**…**


	11. Chapter 11

**…**

_In which Luka receives a letter from Zagreb._

**…**

Luka is bone tired by the time he makes it back home. He drags himself through the motions of brushing his teeth and showering and he’s happy to crash down on his bed. He doesn’t even bother with the alarm clock, he has nowhere to be tomorrow and if he sleeps past the usual time he gets up, no one will ever be the wiser.

It was a good idea to go running, it got rid of all the excess energy and it was nice to be in Nadya’s restaurant again. The place reminds him of his early childhood. Before he got his soulmark. Before everything got complicated.

Luka falls asleep soon after his face touches his pillow and he doesn’t wake until the sun is already up.

He stares up at the sky, watching the clouds getting swept across the sky in the wind. The puffy white of the clouds and the bright blue colour of the sky make for a nice scenery.

Luka rubs his eyes and yawns, then he swings his legs off the bed and grimaces when his bare feet touch the cold floorboards. Maybe he should look into the floor heating system Marce was going on about.

He drags himself up from the bed and grabs his socks first, then starts to care about the rest of his clothing.

Mornings aren’t one of Luka’s strong suits and he heaves a sigh as he shuffles into the kitchen, yawning again and blearily poking at his phone to see if he has any reminders for today.

As he waits for the kettle to boil, he goes to collect his post from the outside. It’s a short walk from the house to the mailbox and back. The wind is pretty cold but he’s too lazy to put on a coat. The mail is already pre-sorted, only things he personally needs to deal with are there, anything else he doesn’t need to see has been taken care of.

Luka hurries inside, feeling much more awake now. The crispy air woke him up better than any coffee. With a shudder he places the small pile of envelopes on the desk and walks over to the fridge, staring into it, scratching his cheek, contemplating his options.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the pile of his post slide across the desk and a postal stamp on one of the envelopes catches his eye. Mail that comes through the Spanish post hardly ever has a post mark. Luka shuts the fridge and cranes his neck to take a better look at the envelope but when he still can’t quite make it out he reaches for the envelope and frees it from the pile of all the others. And then his stomach drops.

His heart begins to race, he staggers to the table and sits down heavily in a chair, a dreadful unease setting low in his stomach, making him off-footed. His fingers are shaking and not knowing is _the worst_ but at the same time he can’t make himself open the letter.

He needs to know what it says.

He dreads knowing.

Luka gets up to his feet again and his fingers are shaking as he reaches for a glass into his cupboard. He sloshes some water over his fingers as he runs the tap and the glass softly clinks against his teeth when he tries to take a sip. He sets the glass down, staring at the envelope that can’t bring him any good news. Would they send a letter if his father–?

His fingers are still badly shaking when he tears into the envelope, not caring to grab a letter opener. He scans the letter, then he does it again, scarcely believing what it says.

It’s a summon to a court in Zagreb.

Shit.

Oh, shit.

His breathing is becoming erratic and his thoughts are quickly taking a downward spiral. If the clinic had any records, someone might have sold the information. Or the guy who worked on him could have decided to talk. It was unlikely, after all these years, but it wasn’t impossible. There has been a surge of interest in his private life these past months and the guy might have decided to milk it for what it was worth. Even if it wasn’t anyone at the clinic, the secret could have been discovered in thousand other ways. Maybe he wasn’t careful enough in the locker room, maybe the paparazzi were more intrusive than he thought. Maybe someone close to him put two and two together, with the way he’s been going recently it wasn’t that much of a leap to make. If the court is involved, it is bad.

Luka keeps reading the letter over and over but the strings of words don’t make any sense, he is in too much of a shock for his brain to process the meaning. Luka squeezes his eyes shut.

It’s not an arrest, he reminds himself. If they knew for sure, they wouldn’t have bothered to send him a letter beforehand. He would have been apprehended first and cross-examined later.

So, whatever it is about, it’s not as dire as it could be, Luka reasons with himself but it does little to settle his nerves.

Court summons are never good and Luka can’t shake the fear that he’s either going to get sued or dragged for having illegally gotten his soulmark removed.

**…**

The rest of the day passes in a haze. He skips breakfast and lunch and when he exercises he isn’t paying full attention and he overdoes it, soothed by the strenuous activity that pulls at his muscles and doesn’t give his mind time to wander. He’s all tense after that, he really shouldn’t have done the last set of reps but he couldn’t make himself stop. Now his left shin is in a searing pain again, the ache so familiar it’s almost welcome. It’s nothing a long hot shower couldn’t soothe, Luka tells himself.

He’s supposed to take a powernap but Luka is hard-pressed to lie down to sleep in the afternoon on a good day. He hates being woken up from his sleep and while everyone says a short nap is refreshing, Luka often wakes up drowsy and has to struggle to shake off the sleepiness the same way he has to in the early mornings when he has places to be.

Still, today has been an exhausting day so far and who knows what the rest of it would bring.

Luka lies down, earbuds in his ears. He doesn’t have to sleep. He’ll just lie down and close his eyes and try to let go of all that stress that has been piling up.

**…**

Luka wakes up with a start, disoriented, the haze of the dream only slowly leaving his mind.

He’s in Spain. He’s not a kid about to get signed by Zagreb. It’s years later than it was a second ago. Luka has to touch his wrist to remind himself that he has really done it. He quickly works to undo the cover and then he breathes out a sigh. It’s there, the tattoo. He got the soulmark removed and when the skin healed he went to the tattoo parlour where they didn’t ask any questions and where they were willing to tattoo over the tale-telling faint scar that sat there.

It’s still there now. The tattoo. And when Luka tilts his head just right and looks closely, he sees the scar, too.

He blinks back tears and presses his fingers to the `S` of the tattoo. He wasn’t being sentimental when he hastily drew the design for the fake name, he was hard pressed for time and the swirl of the `S` has been so familiar Luka had drawn it exactly the same way for _Spomenka_ without a second thought. The initial letter is the closest thing he has to the original soulmark. One name for another. The truth for a lie. The soulmark for a tattoo.

Luka spends a lot of time thinking about the way the `S` curls into his skin, tracing over the name with the pad of his right thumb and he’s so deep in thoughts he doesn’t feel all that much of anything.

**…**


	12. Chapter 12

**…**

_In which Sergio loses his patience._

**…**

Sunday’s match takes place late at night so it’s close to midnight by the time the match is over. With the final whistle sealing their fate at 2-1, Luka lies down with his back on the grass and looks up, at the stands and into the dark void of the sky that he can see past the glare of the lights from the stadium. His chest is heaving, the adrenaline still making his heart gallop at a crazy speed. Just seconds before, they’d been close to equalizing, he was trying to get the ball past the defence to pass to either Gareth who was open or to Toni whose accuracy could have turned deadly if only he could have gotten his feet on the ball. It’s all gone now. They’ve lost another match.

The stands are still chanting to their heroes. This was an away game and Real has got a long, silent way back home ahead of them tomorrow. Luka isn’t looking forward to that in the slightest. They’re staying overnight at the hotel and Luka looks forward to that even less.

A familiar tattooed hand appears in Luka’s view, shielding the stands from sight. “Fucking game,” Sergio is swearing as Luka clasps his hand around Sergio’s and allows himself to be pulled up.

The movement is too abrupt and a sudden pain shoots through his temple and he lets out a startled gasp and clings to Sergio’s hand for support. For a second, Sergio goes absolutely still but then he’s a blur of movement, pressing Luka close and dragging him to the lockers.

Luka’s pretty sure there should have been more shaking hands with the home team but he’s not complaining. He tries to focus on his breathing to get it back under control. He’s completely oblivious to the way his hand is still gripping Sergio’s wrist.

**…**

Turns out, Luka was wrong about him and Sergio. They _are_ fighting. And it’s not pretty. He doesn’t understand why Sergio’s frustrations are focused on him but he’s not going to tolerate it. Sure, the match has been one giant fuck-up but Sergio looks like he expects Luka to _do_ something and Luka has no idea what Sergio wants. So they argue, right there in the locker room and Luka has had enough of it.

He ignores Marce’s worried glances and heads to the showers in the middle of Sergio’s rant, hoping Sergio will have calmed down by the time Luka finishes taking a shower and changing. Just before he turns the tap, he hears Sergio yell at Marce to shut the fuck up, then the stream of water hitting the tiles drowns out any other noises.

Sergio is gone when Luka comes back, and Luka’s mood lightens. He sits with Marce on the bus that shuttles them back to the hotel room and if he could say so himself, Luka is pretty much okay by the time he’s wishing Marce goodnight and stepping out of the lift.

But Sergio is waiting for him. He’s leaning against the wall next to the door to Luka’s room and when he hears Luka approaching, his head jerks up from where he’d been studying the patterns on his sneakers.

“Luka,” he rasps, then clears his throat, eyes glued to Luka, searching for good knows what.

“What?” Luka snaps as he struggles with the lock on his door.

“Luka, please, I can’t… Everything’s going to shit, don’t let this become a disaster, too.”

“Way I see it,” Luka says, getting irritated by Sergio ruthlessly seeking problems where there are none, “you’re the one stirring shit.”

“Luka.”

“Seriously,” he says as he pushes past the door. Sergio quickly follows him inside. “What’s gotten into you?” The door falls shut behind them but the walls are thin. Luka sets his bag on the chair near the bed and shuts the blinds. Sergio remains standing in the narrow hallway by the door.

“You know what this is about!” Sergio says, anger seeping into his voice. It’s not good, it’s definitely not good, because they’re the only two people here and if this ends in another shouting match, there won’t be any witnesses that could stay level-headed and break their fight apart.

“You know what’s _wrong_! You’re the one who won’t stop touching my mark!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Luka says and he’s pleased to hear the calmness in his own voice.

“Don’t lie to me,” Sergio snarls.

“I’m not!” It sounds more defensive than Luka would have liked.

“Look me in the eye,” Sergio challenges, dark eyes gleaming with emotions.

It takes a lot not to look away but Luka clenches his teeth and holds the penetrating gaze. He’s been through too much to fuck it up now.

Sergio’s eyes are seeping into his, searching for any hints of dishonesty, in turn betraying something akin to hope in their expression, so tentative and careful Luka isn’t sure if Sergio realizes Luka can see it.

Luka would say something if things were different. He would. He would roll up his sleeve, undo the cover and show Sergio the name he’s been hiding since the first day it appeared on his skin. But things are never going to be different, people are always going to _talk_ and stick their noses into other people’s business and gleefully jump at any chance to tank his career, that’s the whole point.

Keeping the mark was never an option. It needed to go.

Luka doesn’t regret his decision.

Getting rid of the name to make sure he could keep playing football was a fair trade-off, in Luka’s eyes. It hurt more than anything has ever hurt in his life. Severing the bond was beyond painful but it was the only decision he could have made. If given the chance, he’d do the same thing. Well, he probably wouldn’t be so reckless about it and he’d do his research first to make sure he picks someone absolutely trustworthy to take the scalpel to his skin and do the job of cutting out the marked stripe of skin. But aside from that, Luka would do everything the same way. He would get rid of the soulmark if it meant he could stop looking over his shoulder every damn second of his life.

Luka lets out a soft exhale as he reminds himself he doesn’t need to dread that people would see what’s beneath the cover anymore. Because now all there’s to see is a tattoo of a name. _Spomenka._

Luka never thought he would meet _Sergio_. Never entertained the thought he would meet him and know it was _him_.

“Look me in the eye,” Sergio repeats slowly. “And tell me you don’t have my name.”

“I don’t have your name, Sergio,” Luka says evenly. It’s true, after all.

He doesn’t have Sergio’s name. Not anymore.

There is just a thin, faded scar where Luka got the skin removed and sewed back together. It healed surprisingly well, considering the circumstances. To this day Luka shudders to remember the darkened alley, the backdoor of the clinic and the smell of sweat and rubbing alcohol. The memory of the smell alone makes his stomach turn.

He got the cover-up tattoo several months later. _Spomenka._ Sometimes, in the safety of his home, when he steps out of the shower without the cover over his wrist and he catches the sight of the name, he gets a weird moment of puzzlement. The dark swirls don’t belong there. The shapes aren’t the ones he imprinted to his memory during the sleepless nights in Zagreb. The scar beneath the name is so faint no one would notice it unless they knew what to look for. The skin healed, even if his heart did not.

Across the room, Sergio takes one step closer to him, snapping Luka’s attention back to the present.

Sergio shakes his head. “I don’t believe you.”

“I’m telling you the truth, Sergio.” Or, part of the truth. Luka presses his lips together and wills himself not to blink too much while Sergio stares him down.

“I can feel it, you liar. I can feel the bond. It’s weak but it’s–”

Luka holds the fierce gaze and says, “You’re not my soulmate.” I refused you. And that is completely true. Luka had refused Sergio years ago, before they even met.

Between one heartbeat and the next, Sergio launches himself across the remaining distance and shoves at Luka until he falls back against the wall. Luka raises his arms instinctively to shield his face against the incoming assault but Sergio doesn’t hit him, Sergio captures Luka’s hand and pulls roughly at the sleeve. His grip is near bruising as he tears at the cover and gets it off, twisting Luka’s hand to get a better look at the name.

For a second, for one insane second Luka fears Sergio might see what’s covered by the tattoo, fears Sergio would take one look and he would know the truth.

Then Sergio freezes and Luka hears him suck in a startled breath. The grip of Sergio’s fingers loosens.

Luka snatches his hand away and grabs the cover, tries to put it back in place, tighten it so it won’t slide off. His heart is beating madly in his chest, his hands are shaking.

Sergio makes a choked sound that gets stuck in his throat. He takes a stumbling step away from Luka.

Luka opens his mouth to say something, to yell, to cry – he doesn’t know. He opens and closes his mouth a few times but no sound comes out. He grabs his bag and with a shake of his head he rushes past Sergio to the door.

“Luka!”

He pauses. Darn it, all it takes is just one word and he pauses, hand on the doorknob. “What?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have–”

“You never should have,” Luka hisses. “What you did…” He doesn’t know what to say. Sergio broke his trust, Luka can’t get past that right now.

“I’m sorry,” Sergio says again, quick and desperate. “I’m so sorry!”

Luka twists the doorknob and slips away. Marce will let him bunk in with him for sure.

**…**


	13. Chapter 13

**…**

_In which Marcelo tries to help._

**…**

“Hey,” Luka says when Marce opens the door. “Can I stay here tonight?”

Marce’s eyebrows rise up to his hairline but he steps aside to let Luka come through the door. “Sure. But you realize this is going to be the first place where Sergio looks for you, right?”

“He won’t be looking for me,” Luka says. He’s pretty sure of that.

Marce starts picking up his clothes from the spare bed to make room for Luka. “If he comes knocking on the door, I’m not going to cover for you.”

“I’m not asking you to, Marcelo. Just let me crash here.”

“Did something–”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Luka dismisses quickly.

“Because I’ve heard the whole thing in the dressing room and it was uncalled for, we all saw that.”

“No, it wasn’t about the game at all.” Luka makes a face at the memory of the scene that preceded the one from the hotel room. “It was about… something else.”

“Oh.” Marce says and there is too much weight in that one small expression.

Luka uneasily shifts on his feet, wondering if Marce can tell that his cover is way too loose on Luka’s wrist. Luka has already said too much. He sits down on the bed, rummaging in his bag for a spare cover and something to sleep in. “Mind if I grab a quick shower?”

“Of course, go ahead,” Marce nods. He’s twirling his phone on the flat of his palm, spinning it around and catching it before it could slide to the floor. “I was just waiting for Clarice to call me again. The kids are in bed already,” he says when he notices Luka’s staring.

“You told them good night?”

“Of course I did.”

“Even Mr. Whiskers?” Luka asks, teasing.

“You’re laughing at me but you’d be just the same. You’d _kiss_ the stuffed toy goodnight if it brought a smile to your kid’s face.”

“I would not,” Luka denies as he grabs a towel and disappears into the bathroom before Marce can switch the topic again.

“And besides, his name isn’t Mr. Whiskers!”

“You would know, wouldn’t you,” Luka calls back before closing the door. He showers quickly, careful not to get his hair wet again. Even if Marce managed to take his mind off things for a few moments, Luka has to take care of the cover now. He’s not in the particular mood to see the tattoo tonight and just thinking about it makes his mood sour again. He rubs his hands over his face, silently cursing Sergio for acting so impulsively.

He towels himself dry and pulls at the cover until it completely slips off. In the sink, he washes the tender skin underneath it and then carefully rewraps the new cover securely in place.

No matter how hard he tries to ease off the frown and force his lips to lose their downward tilt, the stormy expression is still on his face when he comes back from the bathroom. Marce is spinning the phone, this time on one finger. He glances at Luka and lets out a low whistle.

“Lukita–”

“Don’t,” Luka says, watching as Marce sets the phone on his nightstand.

“I just don’t want to see this thing between you and Sergio affecting the rest of the team,” Marce sighs.

“I told you before, we’re fine.”

“If you say so.” Marce gives him a dubious look and Luka has to remind himself there’s no way Marce could have even the smallest hint of suspicion about Luka’s mark or about what has just transpired between Luka and Sergio. And there is no way Marce knows about the letter from Zagreb.

“It’s fine,” Luka says and then he tries again, “It’s going to be fine.”

Marce hums. “Want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Lukita, you know I won’t judge, right?”

“I know.” But Marce has his darling Clarice and they’ve been happy since they’ve met early in their childhood. It’s not like Marce could understand. For Marce, having a soulmate has always been a source of happiness. “Thanks, Marcelo.”

“I mean it, Luka, if you want to talk about the–”

“I don’t!” Luka snaps. He isn’t sure what is it with Marce tonight. He came here exactly because he wanted to avoid any more confrontations and questions tonight.

Marce looks like he’s going to say something again but thankfully, his phone starts ringing and the Brazilian throws himself across the bed to reach it.

Luka settles to sleep, listening to Marce talk on the phone with his wife, his soulmate. Luka squeezes his eyes shut and forces his breath to be slow and even.

Marce speaks fast, his words sound familiar but aren’t understandable and the strange blend is too much to focus on.

He’s almost dozing off for real when Marce hangs up the phone. There are several long moments before Marce asks, voice very quiet, “Luka?”

Luka doesn’t reply, too close to sleep to bother.

In the same hushed tone, Marce says the words that make Luka’s heartbeat skyrocket. “I hope you know I don’t believe in the double soul nonsense.”

‘Duality principle,’ Luka wants to correct, suddenly feeling wide awake. There’s no way he’s ready to have that conversation with Marce or with anyone else, for that matter, so he keeps his eyes closed and his breath even long after he knows Marce has fallen asleep.

Eventually, Luka’s heartbeat calms down but the warm feeling of affection towards Marce prevails.

**…**

“So,” Marce drawls, “are you still claiming that you and Sergio aren’t fighting?”

“Yes,” Luka says curtly and he carefully doesn’t look at where Sergio is sitting alone on the bus, headphones over his ears, blasting music so loud they can hear it from across the aisle. “There’s nothing going on between me and Sergio.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” Marce quips, probably thinking he’s being funny.

“Ha, ha,” Luka says and conjures a small smile on his face. He doesn’t want the fallout between him and Sergio affecting the rest of the team either.

Luckily, Marce starts talking to Clarice on the phone pretty soon after that and Luka can pretend to be enthralled by the scenery visible behind the bus window.

When they pull into the parking lot in Madrid, Sergio is out of the bus and making a beeline for his car before the others even start gathering their bags.

Marco is frowning at Sergio’s hastily retreating form and though Luka can’t really blame Sergio for making himself scarce, he’s annoyed that Sergio would leave the team with no parting words. They all know that sometimes a few aptly chosen words can mean the difference between finding their footing before the next game or getting hopelessly lost in the mulishness of their own dark thoughts.

Him and Marce round the guys up and give them the speech instead. A rather well received speech, Luka thinks.

Toni lingers to ask them, “Where the hell is Sergio?”

Marce looks at Luka, eyebrows raised.

Luka clears his throat. “I think he wasn’t feeling that good, maybe he’s still sick. Not quite fully recovered just yet, you know?”

Toni lets out a murmured “ah” of acceptance and then everyone is finally ready to head home.

“He didn’t seem sick to me at all,” Marce hisses to Luka, his hand clasping Luka’s shoulder in an iron grip.

“What do we know,” Luka says, yanking his shoulder free.

Gareth, who has stayed behind and heard them, spits on the ground and says. “He’s a bloody wanker, is what.”

Marce ignores that and asks Luka, “Are you sure you can’t do anything?”

“Quite sure,” Luka says and holds the small smile all the way to his car, forces the smile to stay plastered on his face until he’s safely home and finally alone.

There’s really nothing he can do – he’s done quite enough already.

**…**


	14. Chapter 14

**…**

_In which Luka meets up with Ivan._

**…**

`Playing Getafe, dinner later?`

Luka blinks at the text from Ivan on his phone and wavers before typing the answer. He isn’t in the mood to go out tonight but on the other hand, it’s still better than sitting at home, waiting for the inevitable sound of the doorbell announcing Sergio wants to talk about what happened between them.

`Come pick me up when you’re free,` Luka types back to Ivan. It will be good to finally focus on something else than what’s been going on with Real and what’s been going on between him and Sergio.

Nothing has been going on between him and Sergio, Luka reminds himself firmly. Nothing could have been going on because they aren’t soulmates, Luka doesn’t have Sergio’s name on his wrist and Sergio will come to his senses and realize that too.

Actually, talking to Ivan starts to sound more and more appealing by the second. If nothing else, Ivan will be a good reminder why Luka did what he had to do all those years ago. Plus, he’ll get to speak Croatian again.

Luka goes to get ready. Tonight will be a good reminder why he can’t show any weakness, most certainly not now, when he has already made his choice and there isn’t anything to gain by taking risks. He’s just finished buttoning up his shirt when his phone starts ringing. _Marcelo_ , the screen reads and Luka decides to put his phone on mute and ignore the call.

**…**

Ivan spikes up an olive and places it into his mouth and starts chewing slowly. Then he picks another one and chews on it with the same maddening calmness and a thoughtful expression on his face.

Luka kind of wants to grab a fistful of the olives and lob them into his mouth one by one just to disturb the serenity of Ivan’s chewing. It’s not his style, though, so he keeps his hands where they are, though his fingers itch to do something that would break Ivan’s calmness.

“How is it going?” Ivan inclines his head towards Luka’s hand. “With Ljubinka.”

Luka shrugs. “No progress. And her name is Spomenka.”

Ivan lets out a sympathetic sound. “No wonder,” he says before picking up another single olive. “All you do in your spare time is babysit those losers.”

“Ivan,” Luka growls as a warning. 

Ivan rolls his eyes. “What? It’s true. If you didn’t have to keep an eye on Ramos all the time to make sure he doesn’t drunkenly bungee jump off a cliff–”

“Ivan!”

“Well, I just meant to say you would have more time to search for your soulmate.”

Their food arrives then and Luka, dismayed, finds that he’s not hungry anymore. He nibbles at his food and listens to Ivan chatter about his family life.

Then Ivan sets his fork aside and gives Luka an assessing look. “You’re miserable.”

“I am not,” Luka denies. They’ve been underperforming without Sergio out there on the pitch. Marce has tried his best – they all did – and there were matches they’ve won but it didn’t feel the same to Luka. Now Sergio is back and somehow things are even worse.

He wonders about the picture he makes. He knows there are dark circles under his eyes and he probably looks as tired as he feels. He hasn’t been sleeping well. There have been a lot of weird dreams lately, dreams with blood and violence, dreams that make him wake up tired and miserable. Dreams that remind him over and over again about the soulmark he doesn’t have any more.

Luka hasn’t been able to find rest since the moment the darned envelope arrived though his post.

“Luka,” Ivan says slowly. “I think. I think you need to let me help you.”

“Help me? With what?”

“With–”

“Wait, are you offering to transfer to Real?”

“Not funny, Luka.” Ivan doesn’t laugh and Luka pokes at his food some more, breaks a piece of the meat and nibbles on it. He’s sure it tastes divine but to him it might as well have been tree bark and he would hardly notice the difference. “I’m offering to try to help you find your Spomenka.”

Luka drops the fork, eyes boggling out. “What? No! Ivan, no!”

“Why the hell not?”

“There’s no need for that!” Luka stammers out, thinking quickly. Why wouldn’t he need to find his soulmate? What would be the logical reason that Ivan would accept?

“I think one of the sisters of the guy my cousin married last year is called Spomenka. Such an odd name,” Ivan says, then pauses. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just… unusual. I mean… it’s unique. It fits you, of course. It’s just a bit of mouthful.”

“I happen to like the name.” 

“Of course you do,” Ivan says softly.

“Anyway, thank you for the offer but I’ll have to decline.”

“Luka–”

“My mother is already arranging a meeting for me and this time she feels like she has found the right one. If she hears I have also asked you for your help with finding my soulmate, she’ll be offended I don’t trust her skills.”

“Oh,” Ivan says and then turns to chew meticulously on his food with the same care he gave to the olives. “I wouldn’t want to step on your mother’s toes,” he says.

Luka forces out a laughter.

“But if it doesn’t work out, hit me up, okay?” At Luka’s silence, Ivan quickly says, “I mean, just in case! It’s not that I don’t trust your mother’s matchmaking skills! She’s, she’s…”

Luka didn’t mean to make his friend uncomfortable so he fills in, “She is known to have been wrong about this before.”

“Exactly.”

It’s Luka’s fault his mother has that reputation. If she knew she can never find the right Spomenka no matter how hard she tries, she wouldn’t be looking and people wouldn’t be talking about her behind her back.

Luka shudders to think what they might be saying. ‘How desperate must she be to keep arranging these dates for Luka. He is their oldest and the only one who still hasn’t met his soulmate. Maybe there is something wrong with him.’

Luka sends his food back mostly untouched and tries not to feel guilty about that too, when the waiter takes it back into the kitchen with a worried frown. “Something wrong with the food, sir?”

“No, no. Nothing wrong with the food. The food is delicious, I’m just not hungry, sorry.”

Ivan takes a last gulp of his drink, watching the exchange between Luka and the waiter with a frown.

“If I see your mother,” Ivan starts and thankfully he is too busy patting himself to find his phone to see the way Luka goes all tense, “I’m telling her you’re skipping meals again.”

“Some friend you are,” Luka says, forcing some of the night air into his lungs.

“The best, aren’t I?”

Luka wonders if that would change if Ivan knew. “Yeah, you are.”

**…**


	15. Chapter 15

**…**

_In which Sergio tries to apologise._

**…**

It’s late by the time Luka gets back home but he isn’t surprised when the doorbell rings soon after he arrives. With trepidation, Luka peers into the surveillance camera and sure enough, it’s Sergio. God knows how long he has been waiting for Luka to come back.

“Go away,” Luka growls into the intercom.

“Luka, please.”

“Go. Away.”

“I’ll start begging if you want. Please, Luka. I fucked up. I know that, I do. Please let me come inside to apologise.”

Luka buzzes him in before Sergio starts making a scene for the whole street to see.

The few minutes before Sergio comes to the house are excruciatingly long. Luka paces around the room, then sits down on the couch, then feels like he needs to stand up again. He smoothes his shirt, tucks his hair behind his ears, glances at the door and regrets letting Sergio in. He circles the room once more and stops by the window. The dimly lit driveway is empty, Sergio must already be on his way up.

“Hey.” Sergio’s voice is quiet but Luka still flinches when he hears it.

“Why did you come here, Sergio?”

“To apologize.”

“Cool. You apologized. Now you can go.” With feigned indifference, Luka turns back to the window, even though it’s dark outside and what Luka can mostly see is the matt reflection of the room behind him. In the reflection, he sees as Sergio sits down without being prompted.

“I haven’t even begun apologising,” Sergio objects.

“Well, what do you want to say?” Luka turns around to face Sergio. He leans back against the window sill and keeps his voice calm. “Maybe you could start by explaining why you did it? Why couldn’t you just talk to me about it instead of–” Luka gestures to his wrist.

“You never want to talk about it! Not to me, not to Marcelo, not to anyone!”

Luka wonders how can Sergio be so certain about it. “Maybe you should have respected that.”

“I’m so–”

“Look, I know you are. It doesn’t change what you did it.”

“I know.” Sergio slumps forward, arms braced against his knees as he runs his palm against his lips. “Remember when I snapped at Gareth?” ‘Snapped’ is a word too kind for the level of acid Sergio used. Luka doesn’t say anything which Sergio takes as Luka not recalling the incident. “He said screw you and stormed off afterwards. After I advised him to make sure he still wants to be a part of our team.”

That’s not how Sergio had put it but Luka nods anyway. “Not one of your proudest moments either,” he says, voice cold.

Sergio hunches his shoulders. “Yeah, I know. But my point is, I know I say it so often that me saying ‘sorry’ doesn’t cut it.”

“Sergio.”

“No. But Luka. I really, really am. Sorry, I mean. So fucking sorry. If I could take it back I would. I was happier when I didn’t know. But I was so sure I was right and that you were just being stubborn. I was really sure about it but still, I know I shouldn’t have touched your cover and I shouldn’t have looked at the name. I’m so fucking sorry, Luka. Please. I’m sorry.”

Luka feels his resolve waver but he keeps his voice even as he says, “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

Sergio’s eyes go wide. “Luka,” he starts, then trails off. He fixes his eyes on the table in front of him and in no time he’s reaching over to fiddle with an orange that he snatches from the fruit bowl.

Luka desperately tries to keep his emotions in check and once he feels he can trust his voice, he says, “I mean that.”

After a brief moment of silence, Sergio repeats, “I’m sorry.”

Luka shakes his head. “I don’t want your apology. Don’t you see? You crossed the line just because you felt entitled to. How do I get past that?”

Back when Luka still had the mark that read _Sergio_ , it used to be his worst nightmare. That someone would come to him, manhandle him, take the cover away and that they would reveal the name that Luka has been so diligently hiding.

“What are you going to–” Sergio shuts himself up.

Luka understands the flash of uncertainty in Sergio’s eyes because the distress means Sergio is just now realizing what Luka might do in retaliation and what could be the consequences of Sergio’s rash actions.

Sergio doesn’t know that the fear he feels right now is the same Luka has been subjected to every day he had the soulmark. Sergio doesn’t know that Luka is on the same side. Sergio doesn’t know about the… Sergio doesn’t know anything.

Sergio must _feel_ something though, something that makes him this reckless and desperate. Maybe Sergio knew the two of them were soulmates the first time they met.

Sergio must have Luka’s name.

Luka’s heart skips a beat. He never considered this, never pondered what would happen to the other side of the severed bond. He thought it would just stop existing but he was clearly wrong if Sergio’s tormented expression is anything to go by.

Luka wants to ask Sergio what he did when he first saw Luka’s name on his wrist.

Luka almost cried when he saw his. He was so angry at first, then he felt completely helpless. Then, terrified. He used to hate Sergio. Well, he didn’t use to hate _this_ Sergio who is now sitting in a miserable heap on his couch. He used to hate the idea of a Sergio. Of a soulmate, his soulmate, who had to be a boy.

Hating _Sergio_ for being the reason Luka’s wrist bore his mark was pointless now. It was all in the past, anyway. _Spomenka_ made sure of that.

Luka has to be careful now, has to handle the pieces left behind by their shattered bond without making himself bleed as well. He came to terms with the fact that he won’t have a soulmate. Now Sergio will have to go through the same process. Thinking Luka’s soulmate is some random _Spomenka_ will make it easier on him. It’s a merciful lie, for both of them. Better to believe Luka is fated to be with someone else than to realize Luka was meant to be his before Luka refused the bond. Luka refused the bond in his reckless youth, he decided to break them apart before they could be together. That was Luka’s cross to bear and it would make no sense to tell Sergio about this misery. Once again, Spomenka is going to be the smarter choice, the merciful lie. Spomenka has been serving as a merciful lie to Luka’s family for years, now it was time to let Sergio believe in her, too.

Luka becomes aware that Sergio’s eyes are on him and he tears himself from his musings. “I’m not going to do anything, Sergio,” he says.

Sergio hangs his head low and takes in a deep breath. “I didn’t mean to hurt–” His voice breaks before he can finish his sentence. He curls even more into himself and just shakes his head.

Luka watches him in silence, trying to figure out what he can do get Sergio to leave without making Sergio think his life is over. To Sergio it must look like Luka is planning on settling down and starting a family with Spomenka.

Sergio doesn’t know – and he can’t know – but he doesn’t have to _fear_ Luka. “It’s been a long fucking day, Sergio. Let’s forget about it.”

“Forget about it?” Sergio echoes dully. “Forget about what exactly? The part where we had this conversation? Or the part where I was so sure you were my soulmate I fucking ripped off your cover? Or the way– shit, I shouldn’t have done that, Luka, I’m so sorry.”

“Let’s forget about all of it,” Luka cuts off Sergio’s rant.

When Sergio laughs, there is to warmth in it. “How could you forget about any of that?”

“I can pretend,” Luka says. I’m really good at that, he thinks.

Sergio is quiet for a while, then admits, “I would have never done it if I wasn’t so sure. And I was, I was so sure. Luka, I–”

Luka wants to tell him right here and now.

But he can’t.

He wants to slide up next to Sergio, wrap his arms around him and console him, whisper calming words into his ear until the dark look goes away, until it no longer feels like something between them has shattered irrevocably.

It’s no use, feeling like this now. It’s too late. Luka knew his inclinations wouldn’t simply vanish together with his soulmark but he hasn’t been prepared to feel so much and care so deeply about someone who essentially isn’t his soulmate.

Even if they aren’t soulmates, they are friends. They have learned how to be friends despite the rocky beginnings. Maybe it was different to Sergio, who still had the soulmark on his wrist and who at some point must have started to assume the name belonged to Luka. But they can’t have this, Luka reminds himself.

Maybe people would be more accepting nowadays but Luka made his choice years ago and he has to live with the consequences. Luka purged the bond, he refused it. He _had to_ refuse it if he wanted to chose football.

Little does it matter what he does or doesn’t want now.

He startles when Sergio’s fingers wrap around his shoulder and squeeze. Luka jerks away and Sergio leans back. “Shit. Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Don’t touch me again,” Luka says and watches the effect the words have on Sergio.

Sergio holds up his hands. “Sorry.”

“You were right, you know,” Luka says, trying to keep his tone light, “the more you say you’re sorry, the less it means to me.”

Sergio opens his mouth, then snaps it shut, probably holding back another apology. “I shouldn’t have done that,” Sergio says.

 _Done what?_ Luka wants to ask. Sergio shouldn’t have disrespected Luka’s privacy. Sergio shouldn’t have seen Luka’s so-called soulmark, Sergio shouldn’t have grabbed the cover, Sergio shouldn’t have come to apologise so soon. Sergio shouldn’t have thought they were soulmates.

“Yeah. You shouldn’t have done that,” Luka echoes. There are things Luka shouldn’t have done either. “But you know what? Let’s just forget about these last couple of days and focus on what’s important.”

“What’s important?” Sergio meets his gaze. He’s standing too close and Luka can see the naked emotions on his face.

Luka finds it hard to speak around the sudden lump in his throat. “The team. The games, we can’t afford to lose our focus now.”

“Of course.”

Luka can’t bear to see the pain in Sergio’s eyes without responding to it. He takes another step back, then another. “You should–” He makes a jerky motion to the door, then turns to stare out of the window again.

“Right. Sorry,” Sergio says, shuffling his feet. “It’s late, you must be tired.”

“Sergio–” There is nothing to see in the driveway. The night is dark. Sergio’s reflection hovers a few steps away from him. Luka never wanted so desperately for things to be normal again. “Sergio, I think… tomorrow, I think we should watch that film you talked about. The Autopsy of Joe… um.”

“Jane Doe?”

“Yes, that one. Let’s do that tomorrow.” Let’s pretend everything is fine.

“Ah. Want to come to my place?” There is something new in Sergio’s voice, something that makes it painfully clear just how ‘not fine’ things are.

Luka nods. “Text me when.” He remains frozen to his spot by the window as Sergio leaves the flat. He sees Sergio dart through the driveway and he stands by the window, staring into the night long after Sergio is gone and the house is quiet again.

**…**


	16. Chapter 16

**…**

_In which things are ‘fine’._

**…**

Armed with Sergio’s favourite takeout, Luka rings the doorbell. It’s not Sergio who answers the door, though.

“Oh. Hi, Dani.”

Dani waves Luka inside Sergio’s house. “Come in, we’ve been waiting for you.”

“Waiting for me?” Luka echoes, hoping this is not an intervention. The last thing he needs is the whole team sticking their noses into this.

Dani slings his arm around Luka’s shoulders and steers him towards the living room. “Yeah, Sergio wouldn’t let us start the film without you. Did you really say you wanted to watch _this_ film? I’d have never guessed.”

“Weird, huh?” Luka shrugs Dani’s arm off and offers him a smile as Dani studies him.

“Oh, great, more food!” Dani takes the boxes from Luka’s hand and heads to the kitchen.

Half of the guys from the team are in the living room and Luka spots Sergio at the other side of the room the moment he enters. Sergio looks up, studying Luka before raising his hand and waving at Luka in a greeting. There is a moment that passes and Luka isn’t sure if he should go say hi to Sergio the way he usually does but then Marce is there, hugging Luka and ruffling up his hair so it sticks in every direction.

“Look who’s here! Finally!”

Luka smoothes down his hair. “I wouldn’t miss a move night, would I?”

“You would. In a heartbeat,” Dani dismisses, coming back from the kitchen with one of the takeout boxes and a fork. He didn’t bother with finding a plate, wolfing down the food from the box. “Someone press the play, we’re all here.”

Marce makes sure Luka follows him to his seat on the couch which just so happens to be next to Sergio. Luka ends up squished to the other side of the couch where he proceeds to doze off after about forty minutes of the film. He wakes up to Marce’s barely suppressed laughter and Beze bending over him with a sharpie. Luka battles Beze’s arm off with a skilled practise and goes to check his reflection on his phone to see the damage.

Dani is shaking his head at Luka’s futile efforts to get the sharpie marks from his forehead. “I don’t get how you can just fall asleep during a film like that! Everything is so fucking creepy and you go out like a light? How?”

Luka didn’t get much sleep last night after Sergio had left. There was a lot on his mind and sleep was at the very bottom of Luka’s list. Now though, with the dark scenes from the film and the slow-paced plot and Marce’s dry comments about the obvious plot holes and with Sergio trying to shut Marce up by smothering him with a throw pillow, Luka felt comfortable enough close his eyes. He didn’t exactly plan to fall asleep, it just happened.

Luka jerks his head back to the TV. “How exactly is that unsettling? It’s not like you could picture it happening to you.”

“Not the point,” Sergio mutters. “The film is fucking creepy and you should be more worried about it.”

“The tinker of that fucking bell, right?” Benze says, nodding.

“The only thing he should worry about is not waking up when Dani glued the googly eyes to his back,” Marce chimes in.

“See, he gets it. I vote Marce to chose the next film,” Luka says. “Wait, what?” Luka twists around, trying to see the back of his hoodie. “Oh, man,” he grumbles, trying to peel off the unwanted addition to his outfit while the rest of them laugh at him.

**…**

Luka wakes up after four in the morning in Sergio’s guest room, feeling fully rested. The house is quiet as Luka makes his way downstairs. Some of the guys have slept over as well and there is someone snoring on the couch in the living room, completely covered by a blanket.

Luka doesn’t want to linger and he takes the longer way home to clear his head by a brisk walk in the chilly morning air.

The streets are deserted but just when he’s about to walk past Nadya’s shop, he spots Naranča struggling to open up the shop.

Luka crosses the street and helps he haul up the heavy window bars. “Hey, Naranča,” he says and she gives him a thankful smile. “How are you?”

She rolls her eyes. “What do I have to do to make you stop calling me that?” She unlocks the front door, switches on the lights and presses a code into the alarm, still talking to him.

Luka follows her inside, shaking his head. “No way. I like it, you’ll forever be Naranča to me. You don’t mind, do you?” Her hair is back to being pitch black. She’s growing it out, it’s already past her chin.

“You’re our first customer today so you can get away with it.” She rolls her eyes again and grabs three oranges from a fruit crate. “One glass orange juice, coming right up.”

“Thanks.” He quietly watches her work but then Naranča pours the juice into a glass, grabs a cookie cutter and the orange peel and in no time there is a star being wedged on the brim of the glass. Two dried cloves and the star looks like it’s watching Luka. Four more and it has a smile, too. “What’s that?”

“You looked like you could use a smile.” She adds an orange wedge and a mint leaf and a straw and Luka grimaces.

“Thanks,” he says again.

“Want to tell me what’s bugging you?” Naranča asks as she starts cleaning the tools she’d used. “I have to warn you though, I charge extra for giving advice.”

Luka feels the corner of his lips twitch. “I think I’ll pass.”

“I’ll have you know that I’m an awesome agony aunt.”

“I have no doubts,” Luka says and takes a sip of the orange juice. “I have a court hearing.” It’s going to be all over the news in no time anyway. The moment he’s spotted in Zagreb, the news will get out. “Nothing you can do about that.”

“Ah. Sorry to hear that.”

He waves his hand, dismissive. The actual morning customers start pouring into the shop and placing their orders, so Luka grabs the juice and takes it to a table near the window.

**…**


	17. Chapter 17

**…**

_In which Luka attends a court hearing._

**…**

Luka picks up the envelope and peers inside to make sure the letter is there. He folds it and puts it into the inner pocket of his suit because he doesn’t want anyone else reading it. He can feel the envelope pressing into his chest and every now and then he raises his hand and nervously touches the pocket as if to make sure the letter is still there.

“When did you say you will be home?” His mother asks into the phone, sounding excited.

Luka squeezes the bridge of the nose. “I have to fly in Tuesday evening.” The court hearing takes place the following day, shortly before the noon, and he needs to meet with his lawyer before that.

“Good, good,” his mother says but there’s nothing good about the situation at all. “Let me know once you’re done.”

“Of course, mother,” Luka agrees. She could be his first phone call from behind the bars, he thinks, a little hysteric.

**…**

They touch down in Zagreb two hours later than scheduled. The sun has settled and the sky has an ominous purple tinge. Luka drives through the city, fingers winding tight around the steering wheel as he watches the yellowing street lights that hang between the houses on both sides of the streets, suspended on a thin line that stretches across the road. Each time he passes underneath a street light, it briefly casts its yellow gleam into his car before the flickering shadows return. The radio has switched on automatically and Luka lets it play without processing which songs are being played. Then the news comes up and Luka does notice then because his name is mentioned.

He doesn’t manage to switch it off before he hears all about the trial from the media’s perspective. It makes his stomach turn. 

He hasn’t been really relaxed since the moment the letter with the date of the court hearing came and the perpetual state of tension has left its mark on him. He’s exhausted, he sleeps poorly, his hands keep sweating and his heart starts picking up speed at seemingly random moments throughout the day – whenever his thought stray towards the trial. And his thoughts stray often.

Luka stops at a red light and waits for a blue tram to pass.

His mind goes through all that could go really, really bad for him. The outcome of the hearing could be dire. If someone has figured out the truth about his ‘soulmark’, the court could order him to prove or disprove the claim and he would be forced to reveal the tattoo to everyone. Most courts have experts on soulmarks who can verify the authenticity of a mark through a series of tests – sadly, frauds regarding falsification of soulmarks are all too common.

But Luka didn’t modify his mark to gain any material possession or any unfair advantage. He didn’t deceive or trick anyone into marriage under false pretences.

He did lie to everyone, though.

He spent weeks looking up any possible regulations concerning soulmark removals but he hasn’t found anything that could be related to his particular case.

The hearing is scheduled for tomorrow morning. He’ll know then. It’s a sickening thought.

His Zagreb house is cold and dark when he gets there. He draws the blinds and switches on all the lights. There is nothing to see outside anyway, the outline of the mountains has blended into the darkness completely.

Luka goes through the motions of his night time routine but when he climbs into the bed, he realizes he’s too anxious to fall asleep.

He picks up his phone. It’s not so late.

He dials Sergio’s number, hoping that hearing Sergio’s voice and his goofy comments could offer him some comfort.

**…**

“… and I miss Madrid already,” Luka complains. “Remind me to buy a new mattress, this one is all lumpy.”

“You wouldn’t mind if you were more tired.”

“I’m too tired to sleep, Sergio. It’s… the hearing is tomorrow–”

“I know.”

“–and I want to be anywhere but here. I want to be back in Madrid already.”

A thought comes unbidden to his mind – if the judge’s verdict isn’t in Luka’s favour tomorrow, they might detain him and he won’t be able to go back to Madrid at all.

Luka balls his hand into a fist. He has to stop thinking like that. He needs to focus on picturing the positive outcome. The court won’t give him any sentence. He will be catching a late plane back to Madrid. This time tomorrow, he could be back at his place, lying in his own bed.

Sergio chuckles. “You missed Madrid so you called me? I’m touched, Luka, really.”

“Shut up.”

“What do you know, the distance really makes the heart grow fonder.”

The distance between them is a horrible thing. The winter break will be there in no time and Luka will go back home to Croatia while Sergio will be spending the break with his family. And it will feel pretty much like right now, the house will be cold and hostile and his mother will be overbearing and his father will try his best to hide his disappointment in him and everyone else will be having a good time while Luka _won’t_. He would much prefer to be a part of the annual madness Sergio always describes.

“Yeah,” he croaks into the phone, “I definitely like you better when I’m not around you.”

“Yeah, exactly. Wait… What?!” Sergio tries to sound outraged but he’s also laughing and Luka closes his eyes, committing the sound to his memory. Just in case things go badly tomorrow.

**…**

Luka hates wearing a tie. It fits all too snugly around his neck and he feels like he can’t breathe. The suit is unyielding and the shoes, though they fit on his feet perfectly, are rough and so unlike the sneakers he prefers when he’s not on the pitch. He feels all wrong footed, quite literally.

There are cameras everywhere, every TV station in the nation keeps shoving a microphone to his face, demanding he tries to guess the outcome of today’s hearing. Luka doesn’t even know what is the reason the hearing takes place in the first place but he tries to be patient with the media. There are people from other countries, too, demanding he answers in English one moment and in Spanish the very next, with no rhyme or reason, and he constantly has to switch between the three languages before they even let him inside of the building.

He goes through the security, they pat him down, they make him walk through a frame that’s a metal detector, they give him some papers to sign about the procedure. He grabs a pen that is offered to him and plasters his signature across the dotted line. It’s only after he has signed it he realizes he used the signature he has for his fans’ signing and other football related PR activities and not the signature he has on his legal documents. He wonders if he should tell the head of the security and sign the papers again of if it doesn’t matter to them. What if they look into the other papers he’ll need to sign in front of the court and realize the signatures don’t match? The last thing he needs is to be accused of a fraud. He nibbles on his lip, nervous. Does he need to bother the security about this? Should he ask his attorney?

‘Stop being an idiot, Luka. Just ask them,’ advices Sergio’s voice in Luka’s mind. Sergio wouldn’t care, he would proclaim loudly that he made a mistake and ask if he needed to sign the papers again and he wouldn’t even blink twice.

Luka can’t speak up, his throat is parched and he feels like he might lose the modest breakfast he managed to stomach down if he so much as opened his mouth.

He doesn’t tell anyone about the signature and hopes it won’t come back to bite him in the ass.

**…**

The courtroom is opulent, there’s wood and brass everywhere. There are marble tiles in the hallway and goddamned chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, shining in that type of light that’s more yellow than white. Behind the jury is a huge state symbol with the chequered pieces made in various depth, giving it plasticity.

When he enters the courtroom, there is a sudden hush, all the murmured conversation stopping, faces turning to look at him.

Luka searches the sea of faces, wondering if he could still recognise the face of the man who removed his soulmark. He was just a kid and the man was probably in his late forties. Luka has no idea what he could look like now.

Luka goes to take his place, facing directly the state emblem as well as three pairs of inquisitive eyes and he feels tiny.

“Try not to look so nervous,” his attorney murmurs. “It looks suspicious.”

Luka wipes his sweaty palms against his thighs. He doesn’t attempt to smile.

The judge starts speaking and Luka tries to keep up with all that is being said but he just can’t. It’s all terms he doesn’t understands and quoting numbers and letters that mean nothing to him but his attorney gives him a nod when he catches Luka’s desperate gaze.

All Luka knows is that the term ‘soulmate’ hasn’t been mentioned once.

It takes nearly an hour for him to realize the hearing is not a hearing at all. It’s no new legal case being opened against him. It has nothing to do with his ‘soulmark’. It’s about the perjury and the allegedly false account of the years-old transfer circumstances he gave. Luka didn’t know they were still looking into that. The moment his attorney got the paperwork and told him he had nothing to fear, the case had completely slipped Luka’s mind.

He wants to laugh in relief and it’s really, really hard not to. He hangs his head, hair falling to his face, hopefully helping to obscure the tiny smile that he can’t keep from appearing on his face.

It’s not a hearing at all. There won’t be any need for him to testify again. They’re just here so they can tell him the case has been dismissed. Well, Luka is pretty confident that’s what going to happen next.

He tunes out the rest of the judge’s mumbo-jumbo because all he can focus on is the knowledge that his secret is still a secret.

**…**


	18. Chapter 18

**…**

_In which Luka’s mood is ruined._

**…**

Luka is on the phone to Sergio the moment he’s out of the building. He needs to tell Sergio, he needs to share this intense feeling of relief that has flooded his veins. He doesn’t know where to begin, he doesn’t know what to tell Sergio first but Sergio doesn’t interrupt him once as Luka talks a mile a minute. He gets to his car, puts Sergio on a loudspeaker and drives himself back home. The traffic is worse now than it was early in the morning and definitely worse than it was at night when Luka drove himself from the airport. It takes a while until Luka is pulling into his driveway.

“… so they’ll officially dismiss the case tomorrow and I can come back to Madrid the next day. My attorney said there’s nothing to worry about.”

“And that’s it?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Luka says.

“And that’s what you’ve been freaking out about? Man, what were you thinking?”

Luka wedges the phone between his shoulder and his cheek as he unlocks the door to his house. “I didn’t know, okay?”

“What was your worst case scenario?”

Luka doesn’t reply.

“Tell me,” Sergio demands.

“Not over the phone, Sergio.” Not over the phone and definitely not in person. Hopefully, by the time Luka gets back, Sergio will be preoccupied with some other pressing issue and the topic would be long forgotten.

“Ah. Sorry.”

“I just don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“Of course, you–”

Sergio’s voice gets drowned in Luka’s mother shrill cry. “Luka! Where have you been! I was worried sick, why didn’t you call me?”

“Mother?” Luka gapes at her in disbelief. She must have let herself in, he wasn’t supposed to meet her at all. She has the keys to his house in case she would need to tend to the property when he’s in Madrid.

“Oh, Luka, come here, give your mother a hug.”

Luka realizes he still has Sergio on the line. “I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later.” He hangs up before Sergio responds.

“Hello, mother,” Luka says and steps close to her to pull her into a brief, one armed hug.

“Are you all right? Tell me, how did it go? What did they say?”

“It went really well, mother,” Luka says. “They should announce it tomorrow but I’ve been told it’s only a formality at this point.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful news, Luka! Everyone was so worried! Imagine what would people say if you–”

“Right,” Luka says. “They couldn’t have had that, could they.”

“What time do you need to be there tomorrow?”

“Same as today.”

“Good, good,” his mother nods. “Then you should be free for lunch tomorrow, am I correct?”

“Yes, mother,” Luka answers, suspicion rising. His mother and him, they don’t eat out together at restaurants and if she was cooking a meal back at her house, she wouldn’t be inquiring about the time with such care.

“I’ll make a reservation,” his mother tells Luka. “At one o’clock. You won’t be late, will you?”

“Of course not. Where are we meeting?”

“At Agave. Nothing too big or fancy, I wanted it to have the atmosphere of a cosy home,” she waves her hand and Luka notices she’s wearing the ring he has bought her for Christmas last year. It makes him smile. He’ll need to think of something nice this year. Pity he can’t just buy her new jewellery each year.

“All right. Agave, one o’clock, I’ll be there. I’ll text you if anything changes.”

“I want to make sure you’re eating. You haven’t been skipping meals, have you?”

“No, mother.”

“Really? Because you’re thinner than you were last time I saw you. You aren’t eating enough.”

Luka hasn’t been sleeping or eating enough since the letter but now that the weight has been lifted from his shoulders, that’s about to change.

**…**

He should have known. He should have known the moment his mother told him about the reservation she has made. But he was still too caught up in his relief about the court being finally over to realize his mother didn’t mean he will be meeting with _her_ for lunch.

They usher him to a table the moment the waiter notices him entering. It’s probably their best table with a lovely view of the trees down on the street. They probably have moved up other tables that are normally there so they could provide a secluded spot.

There is a girl already waiting for him. It’s five minutes to one.

She raises up from the table, smiling at him. Her eyes are huge and intensely blue, her smile wide and her lips are deep red. She’s wearing a dress so formal Luka is suddenly glad he’s wearing the same clothes he picked for the court.

She offers him her hand. “Hi, I’m Spomenka.”

Luka grips her hand so tight it’s a wonder she doesn’t wince.

How stupid he has been to think his worries would be gone with the courts’ dismissal. Nothing has changed. Nothing at all.

**…**

“Well?” Luka’s mother is on him the moment he steps though the door.

“It wasn’t her,” he says, like he’s said so many times before.

His mother clucks her tongue, disappointed. “Next time, it will be her,” she says with a fierce conviction and Luka doesn’t have the guts to tell her otherwise. “Come here,” she says and when he does, she gives him a hug and drops a kiss to his cheek.

Luka pulls away, both embarrassed and guilty. It doesn’t matter how many Spomenkas can his mother get to go on a date with him. None of them will be his soulmate.

His mother looks crushed for the rest of the evening, she must have really had her hopes up for this one.

Luka wonders if asking the next Spomenka on a second date would make things better or worse.

His mother would be ecstatic and he could pretend for a while. He wouldn’t be able to keep it up forever, though. The fallout might be just as bad as the current situation, if not worse.

In the short term, though, it would get everyone off his case. He has had enough of people setting him up on dates with candidates to be his soulmate. Today has been one date too many.

**…**

Later that night, Luka slips off the cover and stares down at his wrist. Feather light, he traces the shape of the `S` on his skin. He thought he was being clever when he picked the name. Spomenka. A remembrance. Because he was always going to keep the memory of the choice he has made. A choice to trade soulbond for football. He thought it would be funny, to pick the name as a memento when it’s the very meaning of the name.

He thought it was an excellent trade-off. A soulmate he didn’t want for a football career that looked so promising. He knew he had enough things going against him as it was. He couldn’t add the soulmate thing into the equation. He would have never moved up if the word got out about the soulmark on his wrist.

It was a good choice – or at least he thought so back then, when he was a kid and learnt not to expect things to go easy. When he was twelve, it was a no-brainer. Now he’s staring at the initial letter and he isn’t so sure anymore.

**…**


	19. Chapter 19

**…**

_In which Luka disappoints his mother._

**…**

Instead of driving back to his place, Luka stays overnight at his mother’s. It’s the middle of a night and he’s still wide awake, unable to fall asleep. His mother is up as well, Luka can hear the muffled sounds from the TV down in the living room.

Luka gives it another half an hour but then he gets up and paddles down the stairs. He misses how close they were before the soulmark. Before he started lying to her.

“Hello, mother,” he says quietly as he steps inside the living room. He doesn’t want to startle her but she still flinches, her hand flying to her chest.

“Luka, you gave me a scare.”

“Sorry, mother,” he says, sitting at the footstool near her wing chair. She picks up her needle again and rolls the thread in her fingers, tightening the knots. She’s adding a looped edging to a squared piece of reticella. He remembers watching her work as a kid, all confused about how a single thread can turn and twist to create something tangible in her nimble fingers.

“You almost gave me a heart attack. Couldn’t sleep, could you?” She says, adjusting the size of one loop with immense patience.

“You are up as well,” he points out, defensive. _Long Dark Night_ is playing on the TV and Luka frowns at the screen.

“It’s the series, not the film,” his mother says as if she could hear this thoughts.

“Oh. I see.”

“Sometimes I think that the shows they broadcast overnight are even worse than the daytime TV,” she says without glancing up from her needlework. Luka makes a noncommittal noise and watches her tug and loop the thread until she finishes a row and sets it aside. “You worry me, Luka.”

“I’m alright, mother,” he says and looks up at her from where he is sitting. He can’t see her face very well, the room is mostly dark and she has a lamp switched on behind her so she can see the lace clearly. The glare from the light has him squinting his eyes. “It’s just… with the court and everything that has been going on lately, I find it difficult to fall asleep tonight. It doesn’t feel real.”

“I’m really sorry the girl today was not your soulmate,” she says and Luka can barely contain the upset twist of his mouth. “I really need to be more careful next time.”

“Mother, there is no need–”

“Yes, there is a need,” she says briskly. “Do you remember Mirica’s daughter?”

“Yes.” How could he not, with his mother quilt-tripping him into meeting up with her.

“I can’t believe how wrong I was about that girl! It’s a real shame. Mirica has been in tears for weeks.”

“Because I wasn’t her soulmate?” Luka asks, shifting uncomfortably on the footstool. He didn’t want to cause them any hardship.

“Heavens, no! It’s not your fault. It’s because of her daughter,” Luka’s mother makes a pause and Luka knows it in that moment. He knows what the next words out of her mouth will be and he knows exactly what kind of juicy gossip got his mother this agitated and left Mirica inconsolable. “Her daughter,” Luka’s mother says slowly, “has run off to Velika Kaniža with some girl!”

Luka doesn’t know what to do with his face. Does he feign shock, disgust or disbelief? “She… she found her soulmate?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you know it couldn’t have been that,” his mother admonishes. “She can’t have a girl’s name on her wrist.” 

Luka’s heartbeat picks up. “Why not?”

“Well, if she does, then it’s not her soulmate,” his mother scoffs. “Their souls can’t be balanced. Spomenka would need to find a male counterpart! Not some random girl!”

Luka places his shaking hands in his lap. He is just as nervous as he has been in the court room. “Mother–”

“I thought you knew about the wrongness of the double soul, Luka. What’s with all these questions?”

It’s not Mirica’s daughter they’re talking about but his mother doesn’t know it. Luka’s voice is quiet and he can hardly believe the words actually make it past his lips. “I don’t believe in the duality principle,” Luka says.

“You… don’t?” Luka has never heard his mother sound so incredulous.

“Um. It’s just theories. No one knows how it really works.”

“Then why are you defending them, Luka?”

“It matters to me,” Luka says.

“But it doesn’t concern you! She has made her choice and it was a wrong choice but it doesn’t matter, Luka. She wasn’t your Spomenka. You would have known it if she was.”

His mother’s words pierce through him, opening all the old wounds. It’s simply too much to bear, the walls he’s build start crumbling because he’s too tired to keep them up. There’s nothing he can do about it but embrace the pain that is overpowering him, escaping from where he had managed to keep it contained. It’s poisoning him, bit by bit.

“I wish you would stop trying to set me up on dates,” Luka hears himself saying. “It’s pointless.”

“Luka, I know you are upset that the last two girls weren’t your soulmate but you’ll never find her if you don’t look.”

Luka didn’t know it when he first met his soulmate. But he knows it now. He wants his mother to stop trying and setting them both up for an inevitable failure.

Luka draws in a breath. “I already found him,” he says.

The words hang between them. A moment passes, then another. In the next few seconds, whole centuries come and go. His mother doesn’t say anything but Luka physically feels the distance between her wing chair and his footstool grow. There’s a chasm between him and her that he’s created. But he feels light. He feels so light it worries him a little. His ears are ringing. He leans forward a little, arms braced against his knees. He feels sick to his stomach and his heart is beating so madly he can feel the pulse in his throat.

His mother makes a choked sound and Luka’s eyes fly up. She is ashen and her lips are parted but she doesn’t say anything, there are only the gut-wrenching choking sounds coming from her.

“Mother?” Luka is on his feet that instant, worried he has really given her a heart attack. Panicked, he runs to the kitchen to get her a glass of water. He leans over to her, offering the glass to her lips. “Mother.”

She smacks his hand away. He lets go of the glass in surprise and it plunks down on the floor, water spilling, glass shattering.

She raises her hands to him, one grabbing the front of his shirt to bring him closer, the other grappling with his cover.

 _Oh._ He shakes off her fingers and undoes the cover. Then he holds his wrist up for an inspection. She pulls it closer to her, studies it under the sharp light of the lamp.

He knows the exact moment she notices the scar.

She doesn’t want to believe it. Even though he told her, even though she can see the tattoo on his wrist, there is still denial on her face.

“Luka, this can’t be.” She shakes her head. “Your father and I didn’t–”

“Don’t put words in his mouth,” Luka says sharply, interrupting her. He can’t recall ever being so rude to her. He waits for her to say something, to scold him off or talk over him but she doesn’t finish her sentence.

She stares at him and he looks back into her eyes and neither of them says anything. Then she grips his wrist even tighter and pulls it closer to the light, turning it to a different angle, as if the scar was just a mirage that could disappear if she looked long enough.

Softly, Luka speaks up, “Aren’t you going to ask who he is?”

His mother drops his hand as if she got burned and she shoves him away. “Get out of my house.”

“Wha–”

“Out!” In a sudden burst of anger, she jumps up from the armchair and shoves at him again. “I won’t stand for you saying such nonsense! Out!”

She runs past him and he can hear her stomp up the stairs but he can’t move, frozen to the spot, her words echoing in his mind. His thoughts turn fuzzy in his head.

His mother is back in a flash, shoving a couple of random things into his arms. “Here. Your keys and your phone. Grab the jacket and the shoes and go!”

Luka lets her manoeuvre him to the door.

“I don’t– I can’t–” She starts but she isn’t able to form any sentence. Her eyes well up with tears and the sight cuts through Luka like a knife.

“Mother, I never wanted this.”

“I don’t want to see you again unless you come to your senses,” his mother says.

Luka says something back to her, begging, pleading, trying to explain that he didn’t chose this, he didn’t want this. He did all he could to get rid of it. Luka doesn’t hear his own words, the ringing in his ears is horrible and his breath is coming short. She’s not listening either.

Luka is shoved outside. The door is slammed shut.

Luka can’t process it. His thoughts are slow and hazed, there are too many of them and he can’t grasp any. He still feels unnaturally light, like he might just float away with a sudden gust of wind.

Luka stays on the other side of the door until he registers the coldness of the night. He can’t keep standing there. He should do something. He should go. He doesn’t do anything.

He should go. Go where? Go home. But home is on the other side of the door and the door remains shut. His empty house across the town isn’t his home either.

Luka watches his hand as it reaches for his phone.

It doesn’t occur to him how late it is until the call goes through.

“Sergio?”

“Hey, Lukita! How is my favourite–” Sergio starts, tone light. He doesn’t question Luka calling him at such ungodly hour. Luka is glad because he couldn’t answer Sergio if he asked.

“Think you could come pick me up from the airport?” He’s too shaken up to drive. He’s way too upset to have anyone else see him like this.

“Ah, sure thing man. You’ll be here tomorrow afternoon, right?”

“Actually, I’m arriving at seven in the morning. Later today.” Luka bites his lip. “Is that okay?”

“Of course, no problem. Did anything happen?”

Luka can’t answer him. “I’ll call you when we land,” he says and gets himself a cab to Zagreb’s airport.


	20. Chapter 20

**…**

_In which Luka receives a hug._

**…**

“Luka, what the hell happened, I thought you said everything went fine?”

Luka is hauled into a bone-crushing hug and it says a lot that he doesn’t immediately try to escape it.

“Everything went fine,” Luka assures. “With the court.”

“And then what?” Sergio prompts, grabbing Luka’s bags, throwing them in the back of his car and nudging Luka into the passenger’s seat.

Luka pushes the sunglasses up his nose. “Can you just drive me home?”

Sergio gets behind the wheel. “Okay.”

Sergio turns on the radio and Luka lets his thoughts float until they reach an intersection where Sergio should have turned left.

“Sergio–”

“Don’t even try to argue with me,” Sergio says. “You’re obviously not okay and I’m not letting you out of my sight. And I’m driving you home, like you asked.”

Luka keeps quiet for the rest of the way to Sergio’s house.

Sergio helps him get the bags to the guest room and Luka doesn’t even have the strength to argue about it. “This is for you,” he says.

Sergio’s eyebrows disappear to his hairline. “That’s like, uh, a whole cart of maraskino bottles.”

It’s not a question but Sergio’s tone still makes Luka defensive. “I don’t know when I’ll go back so better safe than sorry, right?”

“Uh. Thanks.”

“I know Gareth drank the last bottle I gave you.”

“He did! He doesn’t even like it, I bet it was Toni who dared him.” Sergio picks up one bottle, slings his arm around Luka’s shoulders and steers him down the stairs, back to the living room.

“Good to know you’re on speaking terms again.”

“Yeah,” Sergio perks up. “We are. Thanks for the tip. Speaking of tips–”

Luka shakes off Sergio’s arm, tensing.

“–I’ve heard that we simply must see The Nun.”

Luka blinks. “Um.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Sergio says, “I’ll ring for pizza. And I won’t even make gagging noises and let you eat your jalapeños, anchovies and pineapple monstrosity in peace, I swear.”

“You’re missing out,” Luka says and Sergio immediately starts making gagging noises. Luka half-heartedly elbows him in the ribs. “You don’t know what’s good for you.”

“Puh. Luka, my friend, you don’t know it either,” Sergio comments, grabbing his phone while Luka still ponders his words.

**…**

The film doesn’t offer much more than a few predictably-timed jumpscares and Luka finds himself dozing off, listing heavily into Sergio on the couch. He only got a little sleep on the plane back to Madrid but other than that he stayed up the whole night, the conversation with his mother on a loop in his head. He’s drained.

“You should go to bed,” Sergio says quietly.

Luka sighs and shifts so that his cheek is nestled more comfortably into Sergio’s shoulder. “It’s morning.”

“You’re falling asleep on me,” Sergio says but he doesn’t move so Luka doesn’t think he needs to move either.

“Put on The Lonely Bones,” Luka says around a yawn.

“I think you mean The Lovely Bones,” Sergio corrects him fondly and puts on the film. Neither of them are really watching it, Luka is too tired to focus on the story and Sergio has that slight frown on his brow that means he’s trying to puzzle out what the hell happened to Luka to make him this upset.

Luka can almost hear the questions bubbling to the surface. He sighs. “What?”

Sergio makes a face. “You don’t want to talk about it.”

“I don’t,” Luka confirms. “But you’re not letting it go. So out with it.”

“It was your mother, wasn’t it? You sounded fine when you called me and then you said she was there and hung up the phone. Next thing I know, I’m picking you up from the airport a whole day ahead of the schedule.”

“Sorry.”

“Not the point,” Sergio says. “You know I was going to be up anyway. I went for a run. You’re avoiding the question. Which means it _was_ your mother. What did she do?”

Luka turns down the volume on the TV. “What makes you think it was something _she_ did?” he counters.

Sergio waves him off. “You wouldn’t be this miserable. You’re blaming yourself for… what? Disappointing her? Hurting her? Oh! Luka, did she set you up on another date? Is that it?”

“No,” Luka says quickly, then backtracks. “Well, yes, she did – but that’s not it.” Sergio watches him expectantly and Luka heaves a sigh. “My mother was rather dismayed to learn I don’t believe in the duality principle.”

“Uh. The what now?”

Luka would very much prefer to have this particular conversation exactly never. “The so-called double soul controversy,” he says with an annoyed twist of his mouth. Sergio still doesn’t look any wiser so Luka snaps, “I told my mother that believing a true soul has to be a union of male and female part is just a steaming pile of bullshit.”

“In those exact words?”

“Fuck you,” Luka says, “I didn’t get thrown out of the house for you to make jokes about it!”

“Whoa, whoa.” Sergio holds his hands up. “Back up. Did you just say she threw you out?”

Luka can’t speak around the lump that has started to form in his throat so he just nods mutely.

“Oh, Luka.” Sergio wraps his arms around him and pulls Luka into an embrace. His hands are running up and down Luka’s back and Luka shuts his eyes and savours the little comfort the contact provides. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault. And it’s not like I didn’t know how she feels about the issue,” Luka manages to say. “Back home, she’s not the only one against same-based bonds.” _Back ‘home’, huh._

__

__

“But why would you say that to her if you knew how she’d react?” Before Luka figures out how to answer it, Sergio goes perfectly still. He lets go of Luka and Luka immediately misses the warmth. “Luka. Lukita, did you get into a fight with your mum because of _me_?”

“Well. Um.” Not exactly. “No.”

“Is it because of my soulmark that–” Sergio abruptly falls silent. “You know what? You were right. You didn’t want to talk about it, we don’t have to. I can see you really need to catch up on your sleep. C’mon. Let’s get you to your room.”

Sergio stands up and offers his hand to Luka to pull him up on his feet.

“You’ll feel better once you’ve slept a little. I’ll wake you up in time for the practise. We can stop by your place to grab your things before it.”

“Don’t need anything,” Luka mumbles. He’s got all he needs in the guest room, he’s got his clothes in his bags from Zagreb and the rest of his stuff is at the facility. “Just wake me up in time.” He wasn’t scheduled for the training this afternoon but it will be nice to have something to keep his body busy and his mind occupied. Maybe he’ll even get some rest if he manages to close his eyes.

Sergio walks with him upstairs to show him to the guest room, as if Luka didn’t know the way himself. Sergio keeps his hand on the small of Luka’s back so Luka doesn’t complain, glad to know not everyone has turned away from him.

**…**


	21. Chapter 21

**…**

_In which there’s a team bonding night._

**…**

Luka is leaving the doctors’ office when he runs into Gareth. Gareth seems surprised to see Luka there and stops to talk to Luka, even though he is obviously running late.

“The shin again?” Gareth asks.

“Declared fit to play the whole ninety minutes,” Luka assures, although his left leg is still tingling from being pulled and twisted into every angle imaginable to check the movement range. “You?”

Gareth shrugs. “You know how they are.”

“Yeah. It sucks.”

Gareth nods and makes to move to the doctor’s door. Luka stops him with a touch to his arm. “There is a team bonding night tonight.”

Gareth looks down at him. “I thought Sergio hated that term.”

“He does,” Luka agrees. “So, I’ll see you tonight?”

“I… Luka, I don’t know if I’ll be cleared,” Gareth admits quietly.

“It’s not like the meetings are reserved for the active line-ups only.”

Gareth scoffs. “Sure does feel like it, sometimes.”

Luka reaches out to clasp his hand around Gareth’s shoulder and says, in a tone that’s neither a request nor a command, “I’ll see you there, Gaz.”

**…**

They defeat Alavés 3–0 so the bonding night turns into a proper celebration.

It’s a busy event and Luka barely gets to exchange any words with Sergio. Benze stays glued to Sergio’s side as they recount again and again the way Benze’s goal went it. Vini gets praised too, and the boy’s eyes are shining bright and his smile is very wide as he enjoys his place in the spotlight.

Luka is soaking up the atmosphere, feeling light until he notices that not everyone is enjoying the night. Even though he was cleared and got to play, there is something pained lurking in Gareth’s eyes so Luka grabs another two drinks and slides into the seat next to him.

“Here, bottoms up,” he says as he pushes one of the glasses toward Gareth.

Gareth shakes his head and indicates his glass with the drink he’s been nursing basically the whole evening. Luka would bet serious money on the drink not having any alcohol in it.

“Live a little,” Luka says, insistently tapping the side of the glass.

“I’m good, thanks,” Gareth dismisses, the corner of his mouth turning up in a grimace of a smile.

“Oh, c’mon!” Luka says. “Is this still about Toni getting you drunk that one time? He does it to everyone, don’t take it personally.”

“I won’t be hoodwinked like that ever again,” Gareth says insistently. “But no, I wouldn’t expect you to try to sneaking god knows what into my drink.”

“See?” Luka nudges the glass again and it skates closer towards Gareth, a bit of the liquid sloshing over the brim and dripping onto the table. Gareth doesn’t move so Luka pulls one of the paper napkins from the disposer and soaks up the spill.

“I can’t,” Gareth says.

“What the hell, Gaz.”

“Painkillers,” Gareth hisses low under his breath.

“Oh,” Luka says and the expression on Gareth’s face grows darker. “More for me, then,” Luka says quickly, trying to keep his tone light. He grabs the drink he gave Gareth and sets it in front of himself.

So much for brightening Gareth’s mood.

**…**

At some point during the night, someone has the bright idea to bring up the PR thing that crashed after they tried to shoot the first part. It was a complete disaster. Toni and Isco were supposed to answer questions about each other but neither of them knew anything about the other. Or was it Marce with Dani? Luka can’t remember. He remembers it was a bust though, and now they’re having a good laugh about it again.

“You sucked at it!” Marce laughs. “One would think it was your first week in here!”

“Well, they were asking only stupid questions!” Toni huffs. “Fucking stupid! I’d like to see how you’d do!”

Benze is shaking his head. “But Toni, how the hell did you not know Isco’s full name?”

“Oh fuck off,” Toni says. Oh, so it _was_ the two of them.

“The questions were impossible, really,” Isco insists.

“Yeah? Like what?” Sergio asks, raising his voice to join in on the conversation from the opposite table.

“Like, name the other’s hometown!”

Luka snickers into his glass and Sergio laughs out loud. “You call that impossible to know?”

“I’d like to see you try, you fucker,” Isco challenges.

“For real?”

“For real!”

“Sure, no problem.”

“You both should try!” Isco decides and reaches over to shake Luka.

“What? I didn’t say anything!” Luka protests.

“I saw you were laughing, Modrić,” Toni grunts darkly and that decides it.

“I was not,” Luka says but he knows he already lost. The other guys are turning to watch them and they’re quickly becoming an attraction of the night.

“Are you forfeiting already?” Isco asks.

“No way,” Sergio says quickly, elbowing Luka’s side.

“All right,” Luka concedes.

“Great!” Dani clasps his hands. “Does anyone have some paper?”

“Not so fast,” Sergio says. “Who are we playing against?”

Toni and Isco, much to their chagrin, get roped into it again.

“We’ve already done this,” Isco tries to reason. “We’ll have an advantage.”

“Did you actually bother to ask for the correct answers?” Dani squints his eyes at them.

“Well, no,” Toni admits. “But–”

“Then we’re good to go! And we can always make up new questions. Right?”

“Right. Bring it on,” Luka agrees. “We’ll crush them.”

“Easy peasy lemon squeezy,” Sergio says, swinging his chair around and facing Luka with a grin.

“Let’s start with the good ones,” Dani tells them. “What is the other’s favourite drink? Write down your favourite and which one you think is your partner’s favourite.”

“Ha, that’s a tough one,” Benze snickers but Marce shakes his head.

“Sergio knows this one, right?”

Sergio nods. Luka is done with his answers, too.

Isco makes a face when he sees that his and Toni’s answers don’t match, unlike Luka and Sergio’s. Sergio gives Luka a high-five and they move onto the next question and then the next and the next.

Then Dani asks, “When was the last time you cried?”

“Are you pulling these straight from Cosmo?” Isco protests.

“No one can know that!” Toni says hotly.

Marce says, “But Sergio knows, right?”

Tight lipped, Sergio nods.

“I don’t want to know _how_ you know,” Toni shakes his head.

Luka’s eyes fly to Sergio but Sergio is looking everywhere but at Luka.

“See?” Benze says. “It’s totally manageable. You two just don’t know shit about the other.”

“But the questions we got, they were really stupid,” Isco whines.

“They were!” Toni enthuses. “Half of them weren’t even real questions. Like, pick any number from one to a hundred. See if you’ve picked the same.”

Luka scribbles down his number and then glances over at Sergio and they both nod.

“Ready?” Dani is trying to moderate the event but people are already twisting their necks to see both his and Sergio’s answers even before Dani says, “Show us.”

Both numbers read 16.

Isco whines again and accepts the drink Marco hands him.

Benze stares at them, bewildered.

“Freaky,” Toni says. “Next level, someone pour them a shot.”

“That wasn’t part of the PR thing, was it?” Luka tries to protest but by that time both him and Sergio already have a shot each lined up in front of them. No one bothers to make Toni and Isco join them as well.

“Now, try to drink the same amount as the other and set the rest back. On three,” Toni instructs.

Luka doesn’t find it actually all that surprising when both him and Sergio leave just about the tiniest sip of their drink in the glass, the amount perfectly levelled.

The rest of the guys lose their minds.

“What the fuck?”

“Do it again!”

“I call bull on this!”

“Redo! Redo! Redo!”

“Redo! But this time turn your back!”

“And close your eyes!”

Luka chuckles and accepts another glass that someone hands him, raises it up in a mock salute to Sergio and turns his back, ready to repeat the experiment with his eyes closed and his back turned.

Luka’s recollection of the rest of the night is a bit hazy. He remembers playing drinking games and Marco joining forces with Marce while Toni kept commiserating with Isco. It only seemed natural for Luka to keep sitting where he was, next to Sergio. Luka remembers Sergio’s hand, warm and comforting, wrapped across his shoulders.

Then Luka remembers some more drinks. And Marce’s grinning face.

**…**

Luka’s head is still swimming when he does any abrupt movement and he would very much like to sleep it off in a normal _bed_ , instead of waiting for everyone to board the team’s bus.

`Do you want to meet up before or after we sweep the floor with you?`

`You won’t and I don’t`, Luka immediately types back.

Ivan’s response comes just as quickly. `Ha, dream on. Very funny. But seriously. When?`

Luka is still thinking about a way to turn Ivan down when Marce flops into the seat next to Luka.

“Has the phone done something to you?”

Luka stops glaring at the screen and pockets the phone, leaving the message from Ivan unanswered. It can wait until they reach Barcelona. “No, it’s okay.”

“From your expression one would have thought Toni switched your settings to Japanese after last night.”

“He wouldn’t dare,” Luka says, although he wouldn’t put such joke past Toni. Lucas has been a horrible influence on him. “Everything’s fine.”

Marce spares an uncomfortably long moment staring at Luka’s face. “If you’re quite sure.”

“Yeah,” Luka says and hopes it’s the end of that discussion.

“Because these days you always look like the world is out to get you.”

Maybe because it is, Luka doesn’t say and offers Marce a smile instead. “I talked to Sergio, if that’s what you’re asking. He was being stupid, I overreacted, it’s all good now,” Luka lies through his teeth, trying to assure Marce that the team’s integrity is not at stake.

“I know,” Marce says. “Sergio has mentioned something like that to me.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“No, it’s not okay. Because it means something must have happened to you in Croatia.”

Luka wishes he kept his mouth shut.

“Does it have something to do with Ivan?” Marce takes a guess, tilting his head so sharply to where Luka put his phone that his hair bobs around his face.

“The usual pre-match banter,” Luka dismisses. “Besides, we had fun yesterday, didn’t we?”

“We sure did,” Marce replies slowly. “You knew _everything_. Like, you would even know Sergio _mum’s_ favourite drink, right?”

“Sherry,” Luka responds automatically.

“Oh, really?” Marce drawls. His eyes are too sharp again and the alarm bells start ringing in Luka’s head a little late.

Luka quickly says, “But hey, I wanted to ask you, how are your kids? It feels like I haven’t seen them in forever.”

Marce takes the bait, smile going wide and relaxed. “You’ll never believe what Enzo did the other day. Hold on, I’ve got a video of it,” he says and hands Luka his phone to hold as he pokes at the screen.

**…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Halftime break - I'm swamped with uni stuff. Next update in July, hopefully.  
> Thanks to everyone for the kudos and sweet comments. They keep me inspired. ♥


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Same sex _marriage_ has been officially legal in Spain since 2005. It’s still not possible in Croatia and about 64% of local people are against _partnership_ of same sex couples.  
> In this fic, it’s similar with ‘the duality principle’; characters from Spain are very likely not to give a damn. Characters from Croatia aren’t likely to recognize same sex couples as soulmates.

**…**

_In which some topics are hard to talk about._

**…**

“Need a hand with that?”

“I’ve got it,” Luka mutters, not looking up at Sergio. He’s struggling to loosen a very stubborn knot that is holding the straps of his backpack together with his other bag. He’s maybe three minutes away from cutting it free with a pocketknife.

“If you’re sure.”

Luka would almost suspect Sergio of being the culprit of this particular prank if it wasn’t for Isco’s tale-telling glances. And the lack of amusement in Sergio’s voice.

They’ve finally arrived to Barcelona and everyone is still puttering around the bus, grabbing their bags and chatting. Luka would already be on his merry way to his hotel room _and a bed_ if it wasn’t for this inconvenience.

“Quite sure,” he informs Sergio, yanking at one of the straps with such force that his backpack topples over to the sidewalk.

Sergio reaches down to keep the backpack steady as Luka works on the knot.

“They’re going to die a slow, painful death,” Luka mutters. He usually manages to stay away from the never-ending prank wars and he would very much prefer it stayed that way.

“Ah, not very subtle, are they,” Sergio hums in acknowledgement, eyes darting to where Lucas is elbowing Isco’s side, both of them snickering.

“Marcelo said Toni and Isco will try to get me back after what happened after Alavés.”

“Ah, right,” is all Sergio says.

Luka finally manages to untangle the straps and he gets up from where he was squatting next to the backpack. He slings it over his shoulder, grabs his other bag and nudges Sergio’s side in thanks.

He’s about to crack a joke about hiring Sergio’s prank services for a retribution on Isco when he glances up at Sergio’s face and the words die on his lips. Sergio looks just as tired as Luka feels.

Luka should say something. Make sure everything is just as fine as he told Marce it was. But before he manages to get anything out, Sergio is already moving towards Benze and Vini.

A little later, they’re being handed the cards to their hotel rooms at the register and once Luka is holding his, he heads straight for the lifts. Marce says something, voice loud and booming and a split second later, the guys around him erupt in laughter.

Luka doesn’t hear Sergio’s laughter. He glances over, sees Sergio’s tired smile and it stops Luka in his tracks. He needs to say something to Sergio before he disappears to his hotel room. He needs to try. He has to do something about the guilt that is curled around his chest, making it hard to breathe.

“Sergio?” Luka calls out, voice so quiet that for a moment Luka thinks Sergio can’t hear him. But then Sergio raises his head and his eyes flutter around until he finds Luka. Over the heads of their teammates, Sergio nods in acknowledgement.

Millions of other things Luka could say to him are running through his head as he watches Sergio make his way to him. _Thanks for the lift the other day. Want to grab lunch with me? I’m sorry for making you worry. How did you know the answer to ‘what house chore do I hate doing the most’? That shirt you’re wearing looks like it was designed by a three-year-old kid. I hate lying to you._

“Hey.” Sergio bumps Luka’s shoulder and the loosened strap of the bag Luka has on his shoulder slips. Sergio catches the bag before it hits the ground, smirking. Luka snatches it back.

“Stop bullying me when I’m trying to be serious,” Luka says.

The smirk disappears from Sergio’s face and his expression grows guarded.

That is the exact opposite of what Luka wants. “This is an important game for us–”

“No shit,” Sergio breathes out.

“–and I don’t want your focus wavering, so. I want things to be fine. I hate this tension. I need you to know that I didn’t argue with my mother because of you or your…” Luka gestures to Sergio’s wrist. _Don’t blame yourself._

A long silence follows before Sergio says, “Uh, okay?”

“Good,” Luka nods, already regretting bringing the issue up again. Maybe it hadn’t been on Sergio’s mind at all, maybe it was just Luka who couldn’t think about anything but the argument.

Sergio waits a moment longer, like he’s expecting Luka to say something more but Luka has nothing else to say. They’re silent for a moment, then Sergio says, “I’m headed to Boca to grab a bite, wanna come with?”

Luka shakes his head. “I’m meeting with Ivan,” he says and hopes it’ll become true once he finally texts Ivan back.

“Ah, sure. See you later, then.”

“Yeah.”

“And get some proper rest, Luka,” Sergio says, squeezing Luka’s shoulder. “You look dead on your feet.”

‘So do you,’ Luka thinks. He waits until Sergio is safely out of earshot before he dials Ivan’s number, hoping his friend will have time to meet for lunch.

**…**

The restaurant Ivan picks is close enough to the sea and so high above the ground that Luka can see all the life busking through the marina beneath them. Their table is in the corner of the building, the tall window panes offering a beautiful view. Luka watches the dark waves and has to reminding himself to take a few bites of food every now and then so Ivan doesn’t start nagging him about it again.

There must be something longing in the way he watches the white mist of the crests shatter against the breakwaters because Ivan says, “You could have said you missed the sea, we could have taken the boat out.”

“Oh. That would have been nice.” Sometimes the landlocked feeling is too much to stand.

“Next time,” Ivan says.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Luka says and hopes he won’t have to wait until the next year when they’re in Barcelona, playing Espanyol.

They don’t talk about the game. Or the league. Or the upcoming qualifiers. They talk about everything and nothing and Luka lets himself relax.

Then, inevitably, Ivan asks, “So how did everything go in Zagreb?”

Luka takes a gulp of his drink, stalling. The outcome of the court was all over the media so Luka has no doubt Ivan wants to know more than that.

“You really want to set me up on that date if my mother’s match wasn’t the one, don’t you.”

Ivan smiles. “Guilty as charged. Did it really go that badly with the girl?”

Luka doesn’t want to tell him. He’s already had a fallout with his mother about the issue and having Ivan turn on him as well would hurt. But if anyone could sympathize and understand, it would be Ivan.

“One of the girls my mother tried to set me up with eloped with another girl. Mother – she wasn’t pleased and we had a disagreement about it.”

Ivan makes a face. “I don’t see what all the is fuss about.” He shoves a bite of his meal into his mouth, chews slowly before adding, “It’s not like they can get married.”

“No, they can’t,” Luka repeats out loud to remind himself.

“Well, she obviously wasn’t the right girl for you if she chose to do… that instead.” Ivan makes another face, takes another bite. “You need someone normal.”

Luka feels like he’s on top of a cliff again, one more step and he’ll fall into the chasm. “Isn’t it? Normal, I mean.”

“You know how people get,” Ivan says and he’s right, Luka knows ‘how people get’.

Luka wonders if him and Sergio could have been soulmates had Luka not purged the bond. He wonders if Ivan would have accepted it or if they’d never speak to each other again. Luka honestly can’t tell how Ivan would have reacted and the uncertainty makes his stomach turn.

“With all the time I spend here in Spain,” he tells Ivan, “it’s sometimes easy to forget what it’s like in Croatia. It was just a harsh reminder, is all.”

Ivan looks at him as if he’d grown a second head. “They’ve corrupted you in Madrid,” he finally says and it doesn’t sound like a part of their pre-match banter.

“Guess they did,” Luka says and instead of facing Ivan’s disbelieving gaze, Luka turns to watch the sea.

“No wonder your mum got mad.”

“Yeah. No wonder.”

**…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, thanks for your patience! Next update on Saturday.


	23. Chapter 23

**…**

_In which El Clásico takes place._

**…**

Camp Nou is packed, noisy and hostile.

Barcelona’s flags are everywhere. The chanting is near constant, the fans can feel their opponents’ weakness. The breaking point is close.

Before they know it, Real is down two goals.

Luka keeps his focus on the pitch but he can sense it, too. He sees how drained they are. They struggle to hold the midfield. Instead of charging, they keep having to deflect near constant attacks.

Then one pass Luka sends to Case doesn’t make it and instead there’s Coutinho, fast as a speeding bullet. Coutinho has got Ivan in tow on his right, completely open.

Luka picks up his speed but he’s too far, way too far to make it.

Coutinho makes the pass to Ivan and gets ready in a position close to the net. Nacho is too slow.

The stadium cheers but then the noise suddenly changes when Ivan’s efforts are brought up short by Sergio.

It’s not a tackle per say but Ivan jumps up and goes sliding on the grass to avoid a collision. He loses the control of the ball in the process but he’s quick to hop back on his feet and shove at Sergio’s back, full force.

Enraged, Sergio swirls around to face Ivan.

Luka has almost covered the distance to them, he’s close enough to hear the end of the taunt Ivan throws at Sergio as he tries to get a raise out of Sergio.

Luka doesn’t see exactly what Sergio does to Ivan next and he doesn’t quite hear what Ivan snarls at Sergio in retaliation. Luka only catches the last two words Ivan says, ‘your bond’, and that alone is more than enough to predict the outcome. Luka knows Ivan and he knows it’s pure coincidence. Ivan doesn’t know anything about the current soulmark issues Sergio has been trying to deal with for the past few days and weeks. It’s definitely a sore spot and when Ivan aims his barbed insult just there, Sergio loses it.

Luka is not surprised by the fight, he’s not surprised by how quickly it escalates into a full-blown brawl of the two teams and he sure as hell isn’t surprised by the red card Sergio gets.

Sergio storms off the pitch, much to the rejoice of the culés in the stands.

Luka feels guilty. Again. These days, it’s something he feels a lot. It is something that keeps him up at night, gnawing at his bones. But the fear of what would happen if he came clear is worse. So Luka watches their strategy fall apart and can’t help feeling guilty about it.

It takes a few more minutes for both teams to calm down enough so that the El Clásico match can resume.

Even without their golden Messi, Barcelona proves to be lethal. Barcelona wins 5–1 and Luka, Luka can’t help but feel guilty about it.

Ivan shakes his hand after the match, gives him a warm hug and doesn’t notice the way Luka holds himself stiff the whole time.

**…**

There is a surprising amount of chatter and laughter on the bus back to Madrid.

Luka grabs an empty seat next to Gareth and puts on his headphones to deter Gareth from striking up a conversation with him. Gareth doesn’t look like he wants to talk anyway, he plays some game on his phone for a while and then he leans his head back and closes his eyes, hand curled around his phone. Luka doesn’t think Gareth is really asleep.

Around them, the guys are talking over each other, all smiles and jokes.

Win some, lose some. Everyone seems to have already put the miserable match behind them but Luka can’t bounce back like that. They should have won this one. They should have fought. They should have taken the chance to defeat Barcelona when they were weakened. Opportunities like that are rare and Luka is acutely aware that he will only have so many chances to prove himself, to help Madrid win against Barcelona.

Across the bus aisle, he watches Marco who is happily twisting and turning around in his seat to chat with everybody in his vicinity. Marco’s face is animated as he talks, eyes sparkling, eyebrows raising, mouth twitching in a grin. Marco isn’t yet aware of the ticking clock.

Luka watches Marco talk and talk and talk, and he envies him the vitality. Even though Marco was subbed in for Gareth late into the second half and he didn’t help to change the score any, Marco has already moved forward. He’s ready to take on the next challenge. They’re playing Melilla in three days. Marco is ready.

Luka looks away and his haze catches on Gareth’s hand, still loosely wrapped around the darkened screen of his phone. Gareth’s long-sleeved shirt is pulled down past his cover but Luka remembers from Tottenham what’s beneath it. It was the first time Luka saw a faded-away soulmark and the sight wasn’t one he would ever forget.

Sometimes there are chances you waste, like tonight’s game, sometimes there aren’t chances at all, like with Gareth’s soulmate, and sometimes you take away your own chances.

Gareth would have given anything for the chance to have meet his soulmate before her passing while Luka willingly abandoned his soulmate, not even pausing to think about what would happen to the other side of the bond once Luka severed the ties. He thought – he isn’t sure what he was thinking back then. That there wasn’t any bond in the first place.

When Luka got his soulmark and it wasn’t a girl’s name, he was desolate. He just wanted it all to quietly go away so that he could keep playing football. The clinic made that possible, ridding him of the mark, making it possible to appear normal. Before Luka came to Spain, he never realized the name he no longer had on his wrist could really have been his soulmate’s; someone he could have bonded with and been with. Learning about the duality principle bias, that came later. Thinking about Sergio, that followed even later and by then it was too late to change anything.

Gareth suddenly opens his eyes, catches Luka staring at his wrist. He makes a face. Luka makes a face back. They don’t say anything, they both know the bitter taste of not having any options left.

Gareth had no say in it and neither did Sergio. Luka made his choice and now the resulting guilt has made itself comfortable as it settled in his chest, ever-present and heavy.

Luka keeps his headphones on all the way back home, not interested in talking to anyone, least of all Sergio. There’s no sense in talking to Sergio about the game, not right now. Sergio needs some time to cool off first before he’s ready to hear any reason.

Luka heads back home alone.

His house is quiet. Luka hears the accusation ricochet of the walls.

He makes himself some herbal tea that Gareth has suggested to help him fall asleep. It tastes like shit, no matter how much honey Luka adds.

He forces a few sips down his throat but it doesn’t help any and Luka spends another sleepless night watching the ceiling and contemplating his life choices.

**…**


	24. Chapter 24

**…**

_In which no films get watched._

**…**

Sergio seeks him out on his own volition the next day, waiting in the hallway after the evening training is over, waiting till Luka is done with his physio. Luka leads them to his car, drives to his house and waves Sergio into the living room where he lets Sergio pick some film for them to watch.

Luka doesn’t want to talk about what happened during that El Clásico match but Sergio seems determined to explain himself to Luka.

“Rakitić,” Sergio starts and of course that would be the first thing he said about the incident.

Luka nods; he’s listening even if he doesn’t want to hear it.

“He just said something about me and my soulbond and I just–” Sergio makes a broad gesture with his hand.

“… saw red?” Luka suggests lightly, though his throat is choked tight with guilt.

Sergio chuckles, running a hand over his face. “Yeah. Just like that. He said that I should finally find my match so I’d settle down and stop trying to kill everyone around me.”

Luka knows that any remark about Sergio’s soulmate would cut deep. “I’m sorry he was being an ass,” Luka says. “I don’t think he meant it like that anyway. Most likely he was just talking shit like always.”

“You didn’t tell him? About–?”

Luka quickly shakes his head. “Not a living soul.”

“Oh. I thought–”

“I didn’t,” Luka stresses.

Sergio clears his throat. “He had it coming, though.”

Luka wants to roll his eyes. “You didn’t have to punch him, Sergio.”

“He was being an ass,” Sergio explains. “What? He was, you said it yourself!”

Luka points an accusatory finger at Sergio. “I thought you came here to apologise?”

Sergio feigns innocence, “I thought I came here to watch a film?”

“You sure did,” Luka says, propping his legs on the coffee table and wiggling to find a comfortable position on the couch. “Watch a film and eat my food.”

Sergio perks up. “There’s food?”

Luka nods. “In about forty minutes. But next time, we’re meeting at yours.”

“We are? I mean, of course we are. Meeting at mine. Uf. Why exactly are we meeting at mine?”

“Because I like it better there,” Luka says and he’s teasing Sergio but he doesn’t realize how truthful the sentence is until he says it.

“You do?”

“Yeah, because at yours, it will be your turn to provide food,” Luka says, though that’s a blatant lie and they have no such rule in praxis. “I don’t want your mess in my kitchen.”

“You know what? I think I’m not here for your food. Or the film. In fact, I’m not here at all, so it will still be your turn to provide food when you show up at mine next,” Sergio decides.

“You sure talk a lot for someone who is not here to apologise,” Luka snipes.

Sergio makes an empty threat, “Puh. I’m not saying anything to you ever again.”

Luka doesn’t bother responding to that.

“Besides,” Sergio says as he swipes the TV remote, “I have nothing to apologise for.”

Luka shoots him a quick glance but Sergio is studiously going over the screen brightness settings. “I guess you don’t,” Luka says and watches Sergio’s shoulders relax against the cushions, “it’s not like it was _my_ jaw that you broke.”

“I didn’t break anyone’s jaw!” Sergio says hotly and he sounds so indignant that Luka can’t help but laugh at that.

**…**

The film is nothing interesting. Luka didn’t even catch the title but it’s turning out to be another mind-numbing slasher.

Luka is running a mocking commentary basically nonstop and Sergio seems happy to bicker back. Until Luka takes a dig at the lodging choices of the soon-to-be-the-fifth-victim and Sergio remains quiet. The silence stretches and Luka glances over and realizes that Sergio fell asleep sometime during the last scene and this one.

Luka decides to turn the volume down a notch so the inevitable screams won’t rouse Sergio from his sleep. The remote is on Sergio’s side of the couch and Luka digs one hand to the backside of the couch for balance as he leans into Sergio to grab the remote. As he’s reaching over, Sergio shifts, accommodating for Luka’s weight. Luka waits a moment but Sergio doesn’t wake. Sergio is soft and cuddly and Luka is pretty content to tuck himself into the space Sergio has created for him and stay where he is, leaning into Sergio’s warmth.

He couldn’t care less about the film and when Sergio finally wakes up several hours later, Luka has no idea how to answer any of the questions Sergio has about the plot.

“Guess we’ll just have to watch it again when we’re not so sleepy,” Sergio mumbles around a yawn. “Man, I’m beat. What time is it?”

It’s almost three and Luka suggests he’ll get the spare blankets and pillows ready so Sergio could sleep over.

“No sense in driving around the town just to crash in your bed when you’ll be here again first thing in the morning to pick me up,” Luka reasons. He only gets the first few words out and Sergio is already nodding and moving up from the couch.

“Sure thing,” he says around another yawn and Luka is immensely pleased that tonight, the house won’t have the stifling echo of emptiness in it.

**…**

They win against Melilla.

They win the next game, too. And the next one and the next one and everyone is suddenly talking about their winning streak, insisting that the team still has a chance to win trophies.

Sure, the season is far from over but Luka hates the additional pressure. As if every game they play could be the one that decides their fate. Their victories aren’t clear-cut, goals bouncing in on lucky shots, their opponents making crucial mistakes and leaving their defence open, Real scraping narrow wins. It’s not how Luka imagines a winning streak but he smiles along with everyone else and he _hopes_.

They just got back from Galicia, secured a 4-2 win and the NT call-ups are starting next week.

The NT qualifiers are squeezed into one week which doesn’t really give them much time but Luka is glad for the chance to meet with everyone again, he is looking forward to leading his team once again. Croatia is hosting Spain in Zagreb on Thursday and then they’re flying out to London to play England next.

“You look happy,” Nadya says when Luka stops by her shop one day. Everything smells of lyutenitsa and Luka is absolutely certain that it couldn’t have come from any store-bought jar. “But you still haven’t put on any weight.”

Luka reaches for his dish across the counter top, gives her a genuine smile. “Life’s been busy,” he offers as an explanation to both of her statements.

Nadya clicks her tongue. “You should come here more often.”

“I can try,” Luka says, though he missed her and the atmosphere of her little restaurant more than her cooking.

“There’ll be mekitsi next week,” she offers.

“Then I’ll be there next week,” Luka replies, wondering if he can swing a visit before they’re off to Eibar with Real and vowing to himself not to let anything slip in front of his nutritionist. The poor guy would have kittens if he were to ever find out about the amount of dripping fried oil that’s bound to go with that particular breakfast.

**…**


	25. Chapter 25

**…**

_In which NT games are played._

**…**

Luka makes it back to Zagreb to meet everyone on the national team. There are some familiar faces but there are also a few newcomers and Luka is glad for the chance to work with them. He’s been asked to captain the team again, although some people wanted him to step down after Croatia lost to France in the World Cup final. After the court hearings, there were also voices calling for his immediate retirement from the national team, regardless of the court’s verdict.

With all the attention he’s been getting from both the national team and the media, he’s glad for the day off they have before they’re playing Spain. Luka turns down Dejan’s offer to join them with Šime and Ivan for their downtime and he heads back to his Zagreb house to enjoy some peace and quiet.

The moment the door closes behind him, Luka is surrounded by silence. Stifling, maddening silence that refuses to go away even when Luka switches on the TV. It’s the kind of silence that means no one else is there with him and that’s not something that can be masked by the sounds from a TV show. Luka doesn’t spend much time in this house and all the sounds the house makes are unfamiliar, not comforting in the slightest.

He can’t remember the last time he was in Zagreb without stopping by at his mother’s place.

Luka idly switches between the channels, wondering what it would take for him to fall asleep tonight, when his phone pings with in an incoming message from Sergio.

` _You got a busy schedule tonight?_ `

Luka waits a heartbeat to answer, `_No. We got a day off. You?_`

` _Same. Wanna meet up?_ `

`_Come over to my place,_` Luka sends, relief flooding his veins.

Sergio’s reply reads, `_See you in ten._` In quick succession, Sergio adds, `_Make that fifteen._` and `_Uh. Twenty? Thirty tops!_`

With a smile, Luka texts him the address because Sergio has been to Luka’s house in Zagreb maybe twice in his life and definitely not once in the past three years.

Sergio, though, promptly texts back, `_I’m not an idiot!_`

` _Debatable,_` Luka teases.

` _No comment. But I’m not forgetful!_ `

Luka would have his doubts but it’s not even half an hour later when another text comes. `_We’re here,_` it reads, followed by a picture of a wooden Trojan horse.

Luka’s still chuckling when he opens the door.

“Oh my god, what is this? Luka, go get changed. Ugh, my eyes!” Isco’s voice is saying before Luka even fully opens the door.

Luka glances down at his chequered team shirt. “I think I have the flag somewhere, too, to go with it.”

“Ugh,” Isco repeats with emphasis, pushing past Luka through the door. He’s followed by Dani, Nacho, Álvaro, Lucas, Marco and finally, Sergio.

Luka follows the gang inside, bewildered. “Come on in,” he says belatedly. “I didn’t expect you.”

Isco cackles, “Nobody expects the Spanish inqui–”

Álvaro doesn’t let him finish the sentence, pressing a palm against Isco’s mouth. “Don’t listen to him. I’m sorry on his behalf,” he tells Luka as he shoves Isco past him to make room in the doorway for the others. 

“I told Marco you’re being all mopey and he offered to come with me and then the rest of them just decided to join,” Sergio offers as an explanation, although Luka didn’t ask.

“Join forces,” Lucas hollers from the living room and Luka nudges Sergio further into the house.

Luka goes into the kitchen to fetch more glasses and more of _everything_.

Dani materializes in the doorway, watching Luka silently for a moment before proclaiming, “You, my friend, are a total pushover.” Then he helps himself to a jug of turmeric tonic from Luka’s fridge.

“Am not,” Luka protests, adding chopped peanuts to a bowl of fried anchovies.

Dani pours himself a glass, puts the jug back and gestures at the snack Luka is making. “Do you even like peanuts in that?”

“I don’t mind either way. And Marco likes them,” Luka says.

“Pushover,” Dani repeats.

“No one asked you,” Luka says. “In fact, no one invited you.”

Dani blinks. “Sergio did.”

Luka can’t argue with that. “Get the drinks for everyone,” he says instead.

When Luka joins the gang in the living room, there’s laughter all around and at least three separate conversations going on at the same time.

Luka is suddenly hit by how much the house finally feels like home. All it took was for the place to be taken over by the Spaniards.

Isco is busy keeping Nacho in a chokehold as he forces Nacho off the couch and Lucas is setting Luka’s TV language preferences to Spanish. Sergio selects a bottle of red wine from the wine rack and holds it up for Luka’s approval. Luka nods and a moment later, Sergio is handing him a glass.

“Here, don’t be a spoilsport,” Sergio says. “I have a bet going on with Dani. He says that you won’t touch any alcohol tonight before tomorrow’s game but my money’s on you. Cheers.”

Luka takes the glass, points a finger at Dani. “We’ll take you down tomorrow on the pitch even if I’m still hungover,” he says with more conviction than he feels.

Sergio laughs, slinging one arm around Luka’s frame, dragging Luka close. “No one is trying to make the opponent’s captain have a hangover tomorrow,” he assures.

“Speak for yourself,” Luka deadpans, clinking his glass against Sergio’s. The warmth that spreads to him from where he is pressed against Sergio’s side is instant and Luka finally stops hearing the _silence_ of the house. He has no plans of getting drunk but having a bit to help the warmth last won’t hurt.

**…**

Croatia wins against Spain. Luka and his team are overjoyed, their mood still bright as they board the plane to take them to face their next opponent.

Sergio sends him a text, congratulating Luka on their victory. Luka can _hear_ Sergio’s weariness through the phone and he types something back, well-aware of the insignificance of the reply.

Luka is rooming with Ivan, who seems content to talk Luka’s ear off. Luka tries his best to pay attention to every suggestion for the upcoming match and to every observant remark about the match they’ve just played because more often than not, Ivan has a point. But Luka feels tired and soon he finds himself humming along whatever Ivan says, wishing he could go to sleep already.

Luka’s just pondering how to nicely ask Ivan to get the lights and go to sleep when he gets another text.

` _Is this yours? If so, I’m keeping it._ `

Luka blinks down at the screen and recognizes his back scratcher in the picture.

` _Be my guest,_` Luka shoots back, grinning.

` _Looted!_ `

“That was Ramos, wasn’t it,” Ivan says, interrupting himself from discussing probable line-up changes.

Luka shrugs, sets his phone back on the nightstand and links his hands together above his stomach. “Yeah.”

“You’re always so different around him,” Ivan says, thoughtful.

“Different?”

“Well, you know, normally you’re the usual serious Luka, going around, doing your voice of reason kinda thing,” Ivan explains.

Luka snorts, dubious. Ivan knows him better than that.

“But the moment Ramos is goofing around, trying to put a smile on that worried face, it works. You fall for it.”

Luka objects, “I’m not falling for anything.” _Anyone._

“No one’s buying your serious persona act,” Ivan tells him.

“What?”

“I can see right though you, Luka. You’re all serious when you’re in public but the moment no one is watching you, the moment no one is _judging you_ , you let your guard down. You let Ramos’ bullshit affect you way too easily, is what I’m saying. I saw that smile just now.”

“Oh, yeah. I think it might be catching,” Luka snaps. “You better watch yourself for the symptoms, I’ve heard they include being in a good mood.”

Ivan says, “I didn’t say it was bad or anything. Just that you let him get under your skin and manipulate you where he wants you.”

“Sergio’s nothing like that.” Luka turns on the bed, his back to Ivan, and ignores any further attempts at conversation.

Eventually, Ivan switches on the TV and Luka soon recognizes the sounds of the opening scene of Occupation in 26 Pictures. He’d normally watch the film with Ivan but with his back turned, Luka can’t see the screen. He doesn’t want to risk turning around only for Ivan to continue with their previous conversation so Luka keeps his eyes closed until sleep finally claims him.

**…**


	26. Chapter 26

**…**

_In which Sergio gives Luka a call._

**…**

Croatia secures another victory and everybody is ecstatic.

They go out for drinks; someone knows someone who owns a place where they can celebrate without worrying about the press. The music is loud, there are plenty of drinks and there’s nothing to complain about. There’s also pizza but sadly, no anchovies.

Luka’s phone buzzes in his pocket. Sergio is calling him. Luka wavers before picking up.

“Lukita! Hey, how are you?”

“Hey,” Luka returns, warily. They’ve texted but haven’t spoken since Croatia defeated Spain. Luka isn’t sure how Sergio feels now that Croatia added yet another victory to their stats and Spain went on to lose two more games.

“I was just calling you to…” Sergio pauses, then amusedly asks, “Is that the Raccoon?”

“What?”

“Rakitić,” Sergio explains. “Little, annoying, never stops yapping.”

“You call him a raccoon?”

“Yeah, he’s the Raccoon, all right. Never shuts up but people are still charmed by all that yapping. Rocket, Raketa, whatever. He’s a raccoon. A dark striped space bandit,” Sergio vents and Luka wonders if maybe Sergio has been drinking.

“I see,” Luka says.

“Anyway, I thought I recognized that awful singing,” Sergio goes on. “I could recognize it anywhere. In fact, I did recognize it from miles and miles and miles away, just try telling me otherwise. It’s him isn’t it?”

Luka casts a look over his shoulder and sure enough, there Ivan is, standing on the table with his left hand around a beer bottle and his right hand wrapped around Šime’s shoulders as they both screech the words of Moja domovina.

“That would be him. He’s good isn’t he?” Luka says sweetly.

Another pause. “Ah.”

“It reminds me of your singing,” Luka says in the same sweet tone and proceeds to hum the next few lines into the phone in tune with the screeching duo.

“Hey! I resent that!”

Luka stops singing and bites on his lip to keep in check the huge grin threatening to spill across his face.

“Also, did you just call me ‘my sun’?” Sergio asks.

Luka splutters. “It’s the song! I mean the lyrics. My sun, my–” He breaks off, not sure if he should translate the next word as sky or heaven.

“Uh-huh,” Sergio chuckles. “What are you celebrating anyway?”

‘You haven’t seen it?’ Luka almost asks but he catches himself in time and he’s fairly sure he manages to keep the disappointment that shows on his face from seeping into his voice when he tells Sergio, “We won against–”

“I know, sheesh, who do you take me for? What I meant is what exactly are you celebrating? That first goal was pure luck and the other goal that decided the game was their own goal.”

At first Luka feels the warmth spread through his chest – Sergio didn’t forget and he even watched the game – but then what Sergio actually said registers. “Those are pointless details!” Luka exclaims, gesturing wildly with his hand, though Sergio can’t see it. “It was a well-deserved win!”

“Oh, so if it’s Croatia then it’s pointless details, if it’s Real then you don’t stop brooding for days. I see how it is.”

“No, no, Sergio. No. It’s not like that. I care about us, about Real, and I can’t be content unless it is a perfect game.”

“Didn’t you say just the other week that there’s no such thing as a perfect game? That there is always room for an improvement?”

“How else would I keep your ego from inflating even further?”

“Shut it, what I’m hearing is you saying you think that sheer stroke of luck today was a perfect game.”

“I didn’t say anything like that,” Luka protests. “It’s just different, it’s a national team. We won’t see each other for months so we have to savour the victory.”

“Puh,” Sergio huffs into the phone. “I wish you would _savour_ our victories, too.”

“Oh.” Luka worries his lip some more before he says, “I can try.”

“Do I hear you saying yes to coming to the party at–”

“No! I said no such thing,” Luka quickly protests but he’s smiling into the phone and he knows Sergio will hear the laughter in his voice. Somehow, Sergio always manages to make him smile, no matter now upset he has been with him before.

He lets Sergio poke fun at him for a while longer before he asks, “Did you call me just to say we didn’t deserve to win today?”

Sergio scoffs and parrots back, “No, it’s not like that.”

“So what is it like?”

“I wanted to ask if you want to do lunch or something tomorrow. What time are you flying back home?”

“Are you inviting me to yours?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I see what it is like,” Luka drawls.

Sergio laughs. “You’re an idiot, Lukita.”

“So, around five sounds good?”

“All right, that sounds great.”

**…**

Luka’s flight ends up being delayed and by the time Luka finally makes it to his house, he doesn’t have the energy to go anywhere else. He grabs a shower to rinse off the airplane stench. He changes into loose sweats and a shirt that has been through the wash one time too many. He lets out a groan as he melts into his couch and texts Sergio to let him know he won’t be coming over to Sergio’s. ` _Sorry, I’m beat. Can’t make it tonight. Raincheck?_ `

` _Have you already eaten? I can pick up something for dinner and stop by your place tonight._ `

`_Ok. Sounds good,_` Luka sends and rubs his temples to ease off the slight throbbing in his temples. He’s still feeling the after-effects of their national team’s joyous celebrations and he would kill for a good greasy burek with extra cheese.

Sometime later, Sergio shows up with falafel wraps, which is almost as good.

“I could kiss you right now,” Luka says as he lets Sergio inside and relieves him of the falafel wraps.

“Well, why don’t you?” Sergio laughs.

Luka’s eyes fly up to meet Sergio’s grinning face but Sergio is just tapping the side of his cheek with his forefinger so Luka rolls his eyes and obligingly leans up on his tiptoes to give Sergio’s cheek a quick peck. “Thanks for the food,” he says.

“I had a feeling your head might hurt,” Sergio says. “I can swear by those wraps. Best hangover cure this town has to offer.”

Luka doesn’t try to argue with that but he makes a mental note to take Sergio to Nadya’s shop to taste her shkembe chorba after Real’s next night-long celebration.

“What are we watching tonight?” Luka asks around a mouthful.

“Man, I’m glad you asked! It’s called Ibiza.”

Luka takes in the amused glint in Sergio’s eyes and groans. “Please tell me it’s not a romcom.”

“It’s not a romcom,” Sergio parrots.

“Somehow, that doesn’t reassure me. It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes, it’s bad and you’ll suffer, you poor thing.”

Luka reaches for a blanket, makes a cocoon around himself as he settles. “I knew it was a romcom.”

“Luka, you wound me. If you don’t trust me, you’ll have to watch it to find out.”

“You’re fine,” Luka says just as the film begins, “It’s the Netflix originals I don’t trust.” 

“Ah, I’m _fine_ ,” Sergio echoes, cackling, and gets a cushion to his face for that.

**…**


	27. Chapter 27

**…**

_In which Sergio makes a slight miscalculation._

**…**

The end credits of the film roll and Sergio turns to Luka. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Well, it _was_ a romcom,” Luka points out.

“Ah, Luka, c’mon, I know you enjoyed it all right.”

“Hah. What the hell was it even supposed to be about? Was it a revenge for me talking shit about that horror film we watched last time?” Luka gets up, switches on the lights, turns off the TV and goes to shut the blinds now that the sun has set.

“Ugh, my eyes!” Sergio groans, throwing an arm over his face. Luka obligingly dims the lights. “If I wanted revenge, we’d be watching The Matrix Revolutions,” Sergio grunts.

“Are you serious?”

Sergio shrugs, unapologetic. “Anyway, you liked the film. There was Ibiza, what’s not to like about Ibiza?”

“Was it even filmed in Ibiza?” Luka fires and when Sergio frowns instead of providing a quick confirmation, Luka pushes, “Did you recognize any of those places?”

“Uh.”

“Because I did,” Luka says, grinning triumphantly because he’s been sitting on that the whole film. “That ‘Barcelona’ sure looked a lot like Split, and I’d be damned if I didn’t recognize our Croatian islands. Also, that beach, that was Zrće for sure.”

“No way! For real?”

“For real,” Luka insists.

“Man, you should have told me right away, I would have paid more attention.”

“You dared me not to say anything about the film while we watched,” Luka reminds him.

“Point,” Sergio admits. “I didn’t think you’d last more than five minutes.”

“Hah!” It was the ‘you’re gonna lose’ glint in Sergio’s eyes that made Luka hold his tongue.

Sergio shakes his head. “I really thought it was Ibiza.”

“Well, Zrće gets called Croatian Ibiza a lot, so there’s that.”

“Recognized _your_ Croatian islands, eh?” Sergio looks at him, eyes dark and searching, as if he could tell Luka’s still feeling all wrong-footed about Croatia. About missing Croatia – the Croatia he lost when his mother said, _Get out of my house_. It wasn’t just the house he left, it was the home he had to leave behind, too.

Sergio’s eyes are still boring into him and Luka quickly says, “It was a horrible film. And besides, those dance moves? What the hell, who even moves like that?”

Sergio laughs at that, getting up from the couch. “You do.” He searches for the right track and a moment later, the same silly dance song from the film is pouring from Luka’s loudspeakers in the living room.

Luka makes an indignant sound as Sergio prances over, grabbing Luka’s arms, forcing them up to mimic the zombie-like moves they’ve seen in the film.

“C’mon, dance with me,” Sergio enthuses, laughing as he waves Luka’s hands to the rhythm.

“You’re insane,” Luka says and in that moment, he hears his mother’s voice in his head again. _Unless you come to your senses._ He suppresses the memory, annoyed at himself. He stops trying to resist Sergio and his zombie-like dancing.

Sergio lets out a delighted cheer and keeps waving Luka’s hands around. Luka entertains him for a while, then he breaks from Sergio’s hold.

“You bendy little snake,” Sergio curses as Luka twists out of reach but he stops complaining once he realizes Luka is content to keep on dancing, swaying to the rhythm in a more sensible way, nothing like the awful dance moves they’ve seen earlier in the film. Sergio tries to sing along with the song but he doesn’t quite know the lyrics and after a while Luka is tearing up, not sure if he’s laughing with Sergio or at him.

Then the song dies down and Luka stills once it ends.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Sergio exclaims and he’s back in Luka’s space, grabbing his hands. Sergio fills the silence in between songs by singing, “The zombies were having fun.”

The next song comes on and it’s a slow one so Luka moves to skip the track or maybe turn the music off completely because it’s near midnight and between the NT games and the delayed plane, Luka didn’t get much sleep and he thinks Sergio didn’t either.

Before he can make it, Sergio stops him, still laughing. He wraps his hand around Luka’s waist, pulling him close, placing one hand on Luka’s hip as the other curls into the hair at the nape of Luka’s neck.

Luka sucks in a breath but swings obligingly into the slow-paced music. Sergio’s laughter ends with a pleased chuckle.

“See, you can loosen up a bit,” Sergio says as he bends Luka backward, lower and lower to the floor when he realizes there’s no resistance. Sergio’s arm is firmly holding Luka across his back as they test the stretch.

“Let me go,” Luka demands but he’s laughing and Sergio’s not listening to him.

Sergio’s face contorts; he’s obviously torn between saying something like ‘I’ll never let you go’ and pointing out that ‘If I let you go you’ll break your neck’.

“Never mind,” Luka says, arms quickly snaking around Sergio in case Sergio decides to let go anyway.

Sergio pulls them upright and his eyes are too close, his gaze is too intense.

Luka jerks his gaze back to the TV screen but it’s switched off and he can’t pretend to be enthralled by a black screen.

With the tips of his finger, Sergio takes Luka’s jaw and forces Luka to turn his head back to Sergio.

“Luka,” Sergio says in a low rumble. They are inches apart, Luka can feel Sergio’s breath against his lips.

Sergio takes hold of Luka’s hand, curls his fingers around his wrist, just above Luka’s cover. “I wish,” Sergio starts, tracing idle patterns into the underside of Luka’s wrist with his thumb and Luka shivers, the touch is so close to his cover. When Luka dares to look up, Sergio’s eyes are transfixed on the cover.

“Just until you find her, Luka.”

Luka’s heart is skyrocketing in his chest. _No. Oh god, no._ They’ve stopped dancing, Luka doesn’t remember when.

“Once you find her you’ll know but until then,” Sergio presses their bodies flush together but he isn’t looking at Luka. Instead, he bends his head low, rests his chin on Luka’s shoulder, hand squeezing Luka’s waist. “Please?”

Luka’s fingers clutch at the fabric of Sergio’s shirt. “Sergio–”

Sergio’s lips brush against the side of Luka’s neck. “Please.”

Luka shakes himself from the weird spell of the moment. “I think you should go.”

“No, Luka, I–”

“Get out!” Luka snaps, then draws a breath, feeling the composure starting to slip from his fingers. He shoves Sergio away, palms flat against Sergio’s chest.

“Luka,” Sergio tries again and he sounds wrecked.

Luka draws another breath and says in a lower tone, “See you tomorrow, Sergio.”

“Luka–”

“Not now, Sergio. _Goodnight_.” Luka jabs the button to skip the track, like he should have done in the first place, and the stupid slow song changes into something fast paced.

“I don’t–” Sergio hesitates and Luka shoves him to the door. 

“Just go away!” Luka turns the music up. The sound blasting from the speakers makes the floor vibrate near the subwoofer.

“The keys!” Sergio shouts over the music.

Luka goes back to the table and grabs Sergio’s keys, tosses them across the room and turns away before he can see if Sergio manages to snatch them from the air.

Luka waits till Sergio gets to his car, then cuts the deafening music. He rubs at his chest, trying to ease off the painful gnaw of guilt.

The engine roars, the tires squeal and then Sergio is gone, making it out of the driveway at breakneck speed.

“Fuck,” Luka says, slamming his fist into a windowsill to relieve his frustration.

Everything is quiet after that.

**…**


	28. Chapter 28

**…**

_In which Luka receives bad news._

**…**

Luka’s phone is ringing _insistently_.

It’s only been a couple of hours since he made Sergio leave and if anything, the pain Luka is feeling has only gotten worse.

Luka is lying flat on the couch where they’d been watching that stupid film just several hours earlier because he can’t make himself move. He knows sleep won’t be coming tonight. He’s been staring up at the ceiling for way too long, trying to will his body into getting up so he could get his night time routine done with and go to bed. His mind is not cooperating though, caught in a dark loop of thoughts.

Luka doesn’t feel like talking to anybody but the phone rings and rings and rings.

Finally, Luka gives in and picks up the phone. The moment the call gets though, Marce urgently breathes out, “Have you heard?”

“Have I heard what?”

“Have you heard about Sergio?”

There is something in Marce’s voice that makes Luka’s stomach drop. He bolts up on the couch, gripping his phone case tighter. The first thing he asks is, “Is he okay?”

“So you haven’t heard?”

“No! Is he _okay?_ What–”

“He’ll be okay,” Marce says.

It’s not reassuring in the slightest because why wouldn’t Sergio be okay? Even though Luka and Sergio didn’t part on the best of terms last night, there’s no reason for Marce to be calling at ass o’clock at night about it.

Marce goes on, “They’re keeping him in overnight, then he’s on a bedrest. He’ll be okay, really.”

“Will he? Are you sure?” Luka asks, dumbfounded, thoughts slow to process the news.

“Yes, Luka.”

“How do you know?” Luka says, barely managing to keep himself from completing the sentence with _when I don’t_.

“I’m included among the people in his contact list and I live close to the hospital,” Marce says but his tone is a little high. They both know that Marce being close is not the real reason he was called.

Luka speeds though his house, throws on his jacket, reaches for his car keys. “Which hospital?” He can’t remember which one is the closest from Marce’s.

Marce tells him, then says, all slow and careful, “But Luka–”

“They won’t let me see him now,” Luka suddenly realizes, voicing his thoughts out loud. “Fuck.” He stops in his tracks, puts the keys back, shrugs off his jacket.

Marce makes an agreeable noise, then says, “Look, they contacted me and I’m calling you because I think you should know.”

Luka has too many questions to ask but for now he settles on, “Know what exactly? What happened to him?”

Marce chuckles, darkly. “What he did, is that he kissed a wall and scraped off some paint from his car,” he says and before Luka can ask, Marce informs him, “he didn’t break anything. And he swears he wasn’t driving drunk but you know how he is.”

Luka’s grip on the phone tightens to the point where his knuckles are going white. “Marcelo,” he growls. Marce doesn’t know _anything_.

Marce pays him no mind. “The phlebotomist said the blood results will take a while to come back,” Marce says and he sounds like he’s quoting someone. “We won’t know much more about the accident until tomorrow. Well, later today.”

“A car crash?” Luka pieces together as an image of Sergio’s car peeling out of Luka’s driveway flashes through his mind.

“Nothing too bad,” Marce insists. “But he’s caused an outrage, of course. People are already calling for his blood and it’s not even morning yet.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s all over the social media, Luka,” Marce says with a sigh. “Someone’s got a footage or a video, I don’t know. Doesn’t really matter if he was drunk or not at this point. The fans are disappointed, they’re demanding he steps down as a captain. The reporters are going to have a field day.”

A jab of pain goes straight through Luka’s chest, sharper than before. “And the team?”

“Yeah, that’s the other thing I wanted you to know about. You’ll be there for the morning training, right?”

“Right,” Luka dutifully confirms.

“The team’s officials called in an unscheduled meeting,” Marce says. The only way Marce would know about such thing is if he was asked to join. He was the vice-captain, after all.

“So, the team…?” Luka lets the question hang between them.

“I don’t know. Not everyone has heard about the crash yet. I’m surprised Sergio didn’t let you know. I don’t know, Luka. I don’t want to say anything but maybe this is the last drop, you know? I wouldn’t hold it against them if they decided to make him hand it over to someone who doesn’t make the headlines every other week. Everyone says that… well, never mind.”

That Marce would be a better role model, Luka fills in bitterly.

“How long till he gets discharged?” Then, quickly, Luka adds, “From the hospital.”

“I’m not sure. Couple more hours till it’s really morning? Sergio wasn’t keen on staying there. He’ll be home the first chance he gets. Why don’t you call him?” Marce asks and Luka thinks it’s a good question. Why wouldn’t he call Sergio?

“I think,” Luka starts, releasing a slow breath, “I think I’ll do that right now. Thanks for the call, Marcelo.”

“Of course. Sorry if I woke you up.”

Luka glances at the clock and winces at the time but Sergio is unlikely to be asleep, possible concussion or not. “I wasn’t sleeping anyway. Thanks, Marcelo.”

Luka hangs up on Marce and dials Sergio’s number.

He doesn’t have to wait long. “Luka!”

It’s a relief, to hear Sergio’s voice again, to know he’s okay.

“Luka, listen, I swear I wasn’t drunk!” Sergio says hurriedly, like he’s afraid Luka might hang up on him before he gets the chance to make Luka believe his side of the story. “It was just a freak accident, I swear. There is a report if you don’t believe me, they tested my breath right on the scene. Clearly says I didn’t touch a drop!”

“I believe you,” Luka whispers, barely loud enough for the phone to pick it up. They weren’t drinking that night and Sergio would hardly have time to get anywhere else before the accident happened.

Sergio pauses. “You… you do?”

“Yeah, of course.” Luka pinches the bridge of his nose. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m okay. So is the car. The bumper got a new dent and the right side skirt has a scratch or two. But I’m okay, nothing really happened. It’s just my name that’s blowing this out of proportions.”

Luka squeezes his eyes shut. He didn’t cause Sergio’s accident but he still feels responsible. He has to talk to Sergio. In person. Tell him about the mark, explain his reasons. He draws in a measured breath before he asks, “Say, when do they let you go home?”

“Later today. There’s more tests in the morning and then I can go,” Sergio says around a yawn. He must be extremely tired and shaken up after everything that’s happened tonight.

“Um. Okay. That’s good. Try to get some sleep, Sergio.” Luka wishes he could be there to offer Sergio some comfort but he is the one who told Sergio to get out. He is the cause of the whole situation. If Sergio wanted him there, Marcelo wouldn’t have been contacted first. 

Before Luka can end the call, Sergio says in one breath, “Will you stop by?”

“I might,” Luka responds after a moment. “I have to go to the team meeting first, though.”

“Ah. There’s a team’s meeting,” Sergio says it like it’s a death sentence. For all they know, it might be. “All right then.” Luka listens as Sergio takes in a few more breaths. “Luka?”

“Yes?”

Even though Luka waits him out, Sergio doesn’t say anything other than, “Goodbye.”

“Goodnight,” Luka says and holds on until Sergio rings off.

**…**


	29. Chapter 29

**…**

_In which it’s a not a bad day for everyone._

**…**

` _Try the room next to A046,_ ` Marce texts him the next day. After the morning training, Luka makes his excuses to Toni and Lucas and he sneaks into the building where the meeting is taking place.

He’s quiet as a mouse, barely breathing as he strains his ears. Through the vents, Luka can make out Benze and Marce’s voices. Varane must be there too but he’s not saying anything.

Marce’s voice is the easiest to recognise. “I know you wouldn’t want to make any rash decisions while it’s–”

“He got a red for that fight with Rakitić, he got three yellows in the last three matches and now this? He’s gotten injured and it could have been much worse. He definitely hasn’t managed to pull his head out of his ass, don’t you think we haven’t noticed,” the spokesman says, interrupting Marce.

“He’s unstable,” agrees Solari.

Sergio isn’t even here to defend himself.

More voices talk, too fast or too unfamiliar for Luka to recognize.

“He’s a disaster on the pitch and his personal life is a mess.”

“He’s hit a rough patch but give it a week or two and he’ll bounce back.”

“If it turns out he went clubbing and then was drunk driving, it’ll reflect negatively on the image of our team.”

“So many changes to the team’s structure this soon could hurt the image of the team, too.”

“ _He_ is hurting the image of the team.”

Luka closes his eyes and focuses on breathing.

More than an hour later, they reach their decision. By that point, Luka’s head is throbbing, just barely on the safe side of not being a full-blown headache. He’s almost too nervous to hear the verdict. It has been looking good for Sergio for the past twenty minutes, though.

In the end, they decide that Sergio ‘gets away with a reprimand, this time’.

Luka isn’t sure if he wants to kiss the manager or bash his face in. Everyone sounds like they’re doing Sergio a favour when in fact nothing happened, just a freak accident, like Sergio said. Could have been anyone, really. Could have been him. Could have quite easily been him, if they started the night at Sergio’s like they had originally planned.

Luka quietly heads out of the door once it’s clear the meeting is about to be over. He is angrier than he has any right to be, considering the outcome.

The team issues an official statement to the media shortly after. Luka doesn’t read it.

**…**

On his way back to the car, Luka stumbles upon Marco. Marco should be long gone but he doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to get anywhere. His head snaps up when Luka approaches, eyes squinting a little.

“You waiting for someone?”

Marco nods. “Marce said he’d let me know when they finish.”

“The meeting is nearly over,” Luka says, “they agreed to let Sergio be.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, he’s still our captain,” Luka says and watches Marco’s shoulders relax. He hopes Marco won’t ask Luka how he knows. “I’m sure they’ll let us know soon.”

“Oh, thank god.” Marco looks anxious and it’s strange to think how much of a difference it can make for Marco not to have Sergio there.

“Anyone else waiting here?” Luka asks because Isco is nowhere in sight.

“Just me,” Marco says and Luka takes pity on the lost-looking Spaniard.

“Do you actually need to wait for Marcelo?”

“Not really.”

“Then how about you stop sitting here like a lost duckling and come with me,” Luka tells Marco, one hand on Marco’s shoulder.

“You gonna take me under your wings?” Marco snorts and Luka resist the urge to hit him over his head.

“Just get in before I run you over,” Luka says, unlocking his car.

Marco follows without even questioning where they’re headed and Luka feels stupidly fond of him. He can definitely see why Sergio took a liking to the young kid.

Luka takes Marco to Nadya’s shop for lunch.

Naranča is behind the counter and her eyes hone in on Marco the moment they enter. “Oh hey. Is this your friend? The sick one, with the soup.” She spares a second to stop staring at Marco to shoot Luka a look that’s half puzzled, half judgemental.

Luka fights the blush that’s threatening to creep into his face when he recalls the shiver that went down his spine when Sergio’s breath caught on his lips the night before. “No, he’s not the soup friend,” he barks out quickly but Naranča is already fully focusing on Marco again, not really paying much attention to the two bowls of soup she pours for them.

Marco is looking at her too, smile playing on his lips. The two continue to stare at each other, happily ignoring everyone else. Luka realizes it would be nice if he introduced them. “This is an another friend, he’s my teammate and–” Luka realizes two things; one, he has no idea how Nadya’s granddaughter is called because he’s been content to just keep calling her Naranča to tease her, and two, neither she nor Marco are paying him any mind.

Naranča tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear and smiles at Marco. She doesn’t have to look down at him the way she does at Luka.

“Hi there, darling,” Marco says, voice deep. Luka’s eyes narrow in suspicion at the unfamiliar tone he’s never heard from Marco before. What the hell.

Naranča looks almost bashful. “It’s Eefje.”

Luka blinks, about to ask her to repeat the sound… her name, he guesses.

But Marco’s face breaks into a huge smile and he thrusts his hand forward and says, “Pleased to meet you, Eefje.” Marco has no troubles saying her name, it sounds natural and easy when he says it but Luka can’t even replay the sound in his mind, let alone repeat it. “I’m Marco.”

Naranča lets out a squeal, snatches her hand back and scrambles for her wrist. Marco does the same but his movements are slower and more precise as he unwraps his cover.

Oh. _Oh._

Wide-eyed, Luka watches them compare their soulmarks and he feels like he’s intruding on their moment.

Naranča’s eyes are brimming with tears and she’s biting down on her lip and Marco is reaching towards her as she hurriedly steps around the counter so he can gather her in his arms.

Luka grabs his bowl of soup from the counter and slinks to a nearby table, giving Marco some time to get acquainted with Naranča.

The two join him sometime later, sitting at the other side of the table opposite of Luka and talking rapidly in a language Luka doesn’t think can be Spanish because he doesn’t understand a single word and surely he’s not _that_ bad after all these years he’s spent living here, right?

Luka shoves another spoonful of soup in his mouth, barely registering the taste.

Naranča is now basically sitting in Marco’s lap.

Luka’s fingers itch for his phone; he wants to snap a picture of the happy couple and send it to Sergio with the caption, `_Babysitting your duckling. Look who he’s found!_` but it’s not his story to tell and besides, talking about Marco happily finding his soulmate right now wouldn’t be fair to Sergio.

Shit, they really need to talk.

The two lovebirds chatter at each other while Luka finishes his soup in silence. He’s happy for Marco. He just wishes something in his life could also be that easy.

**…**


End file.
